Horrie Culpepper, Jr., was known throughout Tallahassee for several reasons. While a childhood illness left him partially impaired, it did not stop him from a life of excitement and serving others.

Maybe guardian angels really do exist. For many Tallahassee accident victims in the 1950s through the early 1980s, Horrie Culpepper may have fluttered over them just long enough to save their lives. The only child of Horrie and Lucille Culpepper, owners of Culpepper Construction Company, was stricken with encephalitis at an early age. While never completely overcoming the effects of that disease, it did not stop him from becoming an Eagle Scout, photographer, HAM radio operator and most of all, an emergency service volunteer.

Horrie’s real joy was patrolling in “Rescue One,” as he referred to his fully outfitted first-responder vehicle. Over the years it was either a Jeep or Chevrolet Suburban. State Troopers, Tallahassee police officers, Leon County deputy sheriffs and firefighters of that era would always recognize the arrival of Rescue One at accident scenes. With various antennas swinging back and forth and spotlights sweeping the area, Horrie would arrive, offer to help and eagerly await an assignment even if it was something as simple as brewing coffee on one of the appliances that he carried onboard.

With this hydraulic device, firefighters could pry open the doors and bend the twisted metal of crashed vehicles enabling them to extract injured persons. This equipment is now on display at the Tallahassee Fire Department Museum.

Radio scanners with every police and fire frequency sat by his bed at night so he could monitor the action. Rescue One, of course, was outfitted with the same radios. At one traffic crash, he ripped out a piece of the seat from his vehicle so a state trooper could use it as a backboard while removing an injured person from a car. But his care and concern didn’t end there. People that he had assisted at an accident scene would often get a visit from him if they were hospitalized.

Considered eccentric by some and perhaps a little frightening or intimidating by others because of his direct approach, he was not in the least mean spirited and only wanted to be accepted and valued. “He certainly kept me on my toes,” reflected Ms. Virginia Thorne, a family member and his trust administrator. While his behavior could be challenging, his energy was always directed toward helping people.

As a young Tallahassee police motorcycle officer in the early 1970s, I was always grateful for his well-intended assistance. And then there were his stories! Because of his late night ramblings, he was always encountering situations that he enjoyed talking about; maybe embellishing a little. Many of his stories focused on his “Cherokee Princess,” an imaginary girlfriend, based on a real person, who was always up to something. There was also the “C B Bandit;” (Citizens Band radio) his conjured nemesis and petit criminal who prowled the night listening in on private CB radio conversations while plotting his next crime. Horrie could have been a writer for the old “Dragnet” radio series.

As our beautiful city continues to grow and change, I often think about the characters that have shaped the culture of Tallahassee and the lessons we learn from them. For Horrie, it was humility, being productive in the face of adversity and service to others.

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