Man devotes himself to Cheyenne's homeless
JARED MILLER Star-Tribune capital bureau | Posted: Friday, November 23, 2007 12:00 am
CHEYENNE - For days, the homeless man bathed his injured leg in a gas station mop bucket.
By the time he was discovered by Richard McCullough, an outreach worker and case manager for Cheyenne Crossroads Clinic, infection was slowly eating away at the limb.
"Had it not been for the intervention, he would have probably lost his leg, if not his life," said McCullough, who found the man living in a car.
The intervention was all in a day's work for McCullough, who is probably the state's only full-time outreach worker for the homeless. It's his job to seek out the city's homeless and tell them about the clinic.
But that's just the beginning of his work.
After four years on the job, McCullough has become an unofficial liaison between the city's homeless and support services.
He coordinates with shelter, hospitals, detox centers, law enforcement, housing agencies and the clinic. He keeps an eye on the people who can't get sober long enough to stay in the shelter.
The local hospital and jail sometimes turn to him for help with homeless patients and inmates. When the coroner needed to identify two homeless men frozen to death under a bridge last year, he called McCullough.
McCullough's co-workers call him the Energizer bunny because of his work ethic. The city's homeless call him "miracle worker" and friend.
"Nobody else does what he does," said Virginia Sellner, executive director of the Wyoming Coalition for the Homeless, a Cheyenne nonprofit organization.
Hands on
McCullough starts his day at 7 a.m. and drives upwards of 60 miles to visit the bridges, tunnels and creek bottoms where the city's homeless sometimes spend their nights.
He gathers leads on where to find the "hidden" homeless packed into cheap motel rooms and crashed out in area homes.
At 53, McCullough is small with thick blond hair and an easy way about him. He uses street lingo and a little self-taught Spanish to communicate with the transients and regulars who live around Cheyenne.
The trunk of his car is packed with toothbrushes, sleeping bags and food for those in need.
The work can be dangerous: McCullough has been threatened twice by drunken homeless men. But most of the time his clients greet him with a smile and a handshake.
"He's a miracle worker," said Daniel Schultz, who lived under a bridge when he met McCullough three years ago.
Schultz, now 51, had just been released from a hospital after a near-fatal car crash. Uninsured and in need of long-term medical help, Schultz turned to McCullough, who provided rides to appointments, help with Social Security benefits and access to the clinic.
"All he's ever asked me in return is that I keep up the faith that things are going to better, and I keep trying to improve myself," said Schultz, who now lives in subsidized housing in Cheyenne.
McCullough's hands-on style allows him to serve a segment of the population that nobody could reach before, Sellner said. Homeless people who are too scared or paranoid to talk to anyone else seek him out.
"He has helped people who might have died if he hadn't found them under some bridge beaten to a pulp and taken them to a hospital," Sellner said.
McCullough is divorced, and his three children live elsewhere. Before taking the outreach job, he worked as an emergency medical technician and at a detox center.
He has no college degree, nor formal training in his field.
"It's all just plain old in-the-field experience," McCullough said.
No bleeding heart
Last week McCullough noticed a man picking through a trash bin. The man has been homeless since McCullough started the job and probably suffers from a mental illness.
"What's up, brother? You been eating?" McCullough asked.
"Yeah, I been eating," the man said.
"Where are you staying?" McCullough asked.
"I'm still sleeping outside," the man said.
"You have a sleeping bag?" McCullough asked.
"Yeah," the man said.
"All right, brother," said McCullough, slipping two dollar bills into the man's palm. "You take care."
The money is McCullough's. It's part of the "hundreds" of dollars he has given out since he took the job - a sizable chunk of his $27,000 annual salary.
McCullough's colleagues in the social services field frown on his generosity.
"Sometimes he's broke for a week because he did a little bit too much of that," Sellner said.
But McCullough isn't worried about the money. Some things, he said, are bigger than a dollar.
Although he's not a religious man, McCullough believes his job is calling - spiritual work. And he enjoys giving a voice to people who have none.
"Every day we come face to face with poverty, and I'm enriched by every encounter," he said.
McCullough is no bleeding heart. Raised one of 10 children in Washington state, he learned the value of hard work.
He discourages panhandling, and urges people to donate to reputable organizations that help the homeless.
"I 100 percent think people need to be held accountable," he said. "This is a hand up, not a handout."
But McCullough said people need to keep an open mind and realize there are lots of reasons for homelessness - and it's not just because people won't work.
A lack of education, poor health, natural disasters and Wyoming's lack of affordable housing all put people on the streets.
Growing problem
McCullough said the problem is getting worse.
"We are experiencing an increase in homeless folks, especially families and veterans," McCullough said.
He also see more homeless people with mental illness and substance abuse issues.
Recent state and federal figures show he is correct.
The number of chronic homeless using shelters in Wyoming grew 61 percent between 2005 and 2006, according to a new survey from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development.
Wyoming's booming state economy has contributed to the problem by drawing workers to the state who can't find housing.
The average homeless person in Wyoming is 35 years old. Half are women and children. A quarter are veterans. Nearly 20 percent are American Indian.
Half make their permanent homes in the state, shattering the myth that most of the state's homeless are transients.
McCullough said Cheyenne Mayor Jack Spiker and state leaders recognize the problem, and they are making efforts to fight its causes. But more could be done, he said.
"The reason these conditions exist is because people allow it," McCullough said.
As the weather turns cold, McCullough's job becomes more critical. The transient population will take the trains south and west, but the city's resident homeless will struggle to stay warm and fed and healthy.
McCullough will be there to help carry the load.
"I go home every night and I feel I've done everything I could," he said.
Reach capital bureau reporter Jared Miller at (307) 632-1244 or at jared.miller@trib.com.