En Garde This Crossing Guard Does More Than Rattle His Sabre
Some Ramsey Elementary School parents call 63-year-old Culver Kuhens the Jerry Rice of crossing guards.
“He took the ball, and he ran with it,” said Deb Shekter, Ramsey Parent Teacher Organization president. “And now we’ve got a touchdown.”
While Rice, the famed San Francisco 49ers wide receiver, is on the sidelines with an injury, Kuhens is playing safety.
The retired engineer has made it his mission to improve safety at Kathleen and Ramsey, one of the city’s most dangerous crossings. Since he started working as a crossing guard last fall, he’s successfully lobbied the City Council to paint school-zone warnings and lower speed limits from 35 to 20 mph.
Before, Ramsey’s 35 mph school zone was the fastest in the city. Kuhens’ corner remains one of the busiest, with an estimated 32,000 cars a day passing through the intersection.
Looking to slow down habitual offenders, Kuhens adapted the reporting form that school bus drivers use for motorists who pass illegally.
With a whistle, a stop sign and a handful of children, Kuhens found writing down license numbers with pen and paper too encumbering. So he bought an 80-second recorder to keep in the pocket of his bright orange vest. When a driver is reckless, Kuhens dictates their license and vehicle description. Then he goes home, transcribes the recordings and fills out violation forms for the authorities. He’s established a good rapport with police, who now patrol the area regularly.
Ninety-nine percent of drivers are careful and courteous, Kuhens said. They smile, wave, and sometimes honk. But every day there are those who force their cars through the walk zone as Kuhens is crossing with children, declaring the green light gives them the right. Idaho code requires drivers to yield to crossing guards at all times.
“People yell and holler at me because the light is turning, but this is still a school crossing, it’s a walk zone and I’m in charge,” Kuhens said. “I don’t want them clipping my heels or making me stop with the kiddies.”
The children sometimes don’t pay close attention. They horse around and run to catch up with friends. The sidewalk butts up to the street, drivers are speeding and “even just the wind sometimes can suck them in,” Kuhens said.
The worst offenders are working professionals, Kuhens said, many of whom drive through with coffee in one hand and phones in the other.
“I blow the whistle. I wave the sign. I yell at them and they still go through. My patience is gone. They will be reported.”
Retirement wasn’t easy for Kuhens. He researched genealogy and volunteered for the library, but felt unfulfilled. Now, there’s the sound of children’s laughter on Kuhens’ corner every day.
On the last day of school last June, they brought him hand-made thank you cards. Teary-eyed fifth graders headed for different schools in the fall promised they’d come back to visit. Over the summer, Kuhens got calls at home from kids wanting him to come to the corner so they could cross.
Students often share treats or bring him token gifts. On stormy days, moms offer him hot chocolate. Last winter, fed up with watching kids plow through drift-covered sidewalks, Kuhens contacted the city’s zoning officer, found out who the contractors were, and pressured them to comply with the city code requiring walks to be shoveled.
“These little kindergartners were trudging a mile. Daniel Boone did. I did. But they don’t have to. This is today.”
Monday, a driver bounced Kuhens with his fender. Kuhens banged his stop sign on the back of the driver’s car as he sped off. The motorist came back the next day to complain.
The job’s payoffs, Kuhens points out, make such daily doses of road rage seem insignificant. “It’s well worth it when I see the sparkle in the kiddies’ eyes.”
, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo