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Naslovnica / Skupine 1815
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Nadnevak izrade / 2013
- ADAPT (285)
The Detroit News, Section B Metro/ Wednesday, Oct. 8, 1986 pp. 1b and 6b News Focus: HANDICAPPED ACCESS PHOTO News Photo by Howard Kaplan: Three dark uniformed officers encircle the back of an older, thin man in a an old style manual wheelchair (Frank McComb). The officer on the left looks frustrated but determined, the one in the middle looks somewhat worried and the one on right is bending forward as if trying to speak to Frank. Frank looks freaked out. He is wearing a button down shirt and jacket with an ADAPT button. Caption reads: Handicapped protester arrested at Federal Building in downtown Detroit. There are two articles side by side. [These articles both are continued on ADAPT 275, but the entire text of both has been included here for easier reading.] Title of first article: 2nd day of protest brings 37 arrests By Louis Mieczko and David Grant, News Staff Writers A group of jailed wheelchair-bound protesters found themselves confronted Tuesday night with the kind of access problems they've been protesting all week. Thirteen protesters spent the night in a gym at Detroit Police Headquarters after the Wayne County sheriff's department refused to admit them to the county jail. A spokeswoman for the sheriff's department said the protesters weren’t accepted at the jail because over-crowding forced the county on Friday to stop incarcerating people accused of misdemeanors. MEANWHILE, UP to 60 people -- most in wheelchairs — descended on the area around Police Headquarters to protest the jailings. They wheeled slowly along the sidewalks around the building, chanting, “Let our people go" and vowed to spend the night. About 20 police officers stood near the protesters but did not intervene. The 13 protesters were among 37 people arrested Tuesday, after they blocked one of two entrances to the McNamara federal office building in downtown Detroit. Of the 37 people arrested, 31 were in wheelchairs. Police said the 13 jailed protesters were being held in lieu of $1,000 cash bail each. The rest of the protesters were released on $100 [personal bond]. BAIL WAS set at $1,000 for the 13, a police spokesman said, because their arrests Tuesday violated the conditions of their release Monday on $100 personal bond after a similar protest. They had been ordered to avoid further arrest until a court appearance set for Oct. 24, police said. Their incarceration posed special problems for police. The protesters were being held in a gym at Police Headquarters, which has barred windows and doors and is occasionally used to hold prisoners temporarily when processing of prisoners is backed up at the jail, police said. The bathrooms in the gym are not equipped for the handicapped and guards were carrying the protesters in the toilets, police said. The protesters were arrested early in the afternoon. By the time they had been processed and carried into the gym by police, the cafeteria at the Wayne County Jail had closed, police said. Officers at Police Headquarters, who declined to be named and who wouldn't provide details, said they secured from the county jail meals of roast beef and pot roast with lettuce, salads, ice cream, milk and juice. The protesters ate about 8:30 p.m. Title of second article: Costly bus lifts are key to dispute By Louis Mieczko, News Staff Writer It costs an estimated $20,000 to install wheelchair lifts on a typical city bus, and sometimes they don't work. That's the crux of a dispute between transit agencies across the country handicapped groups protesting the lack of access to public buses and rail cars. Americans [sic] Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation (ADAPT) wants every bus and rail car in the county available to wheelchair-bound people, a move which transit officials say would bankrupt most agencies. HANDICAPPED ADAPT demonstrators clashed this week with the American Public Transit Association (APTA), which is holding its annual convention in Detroit. It was the fourth such confrontation in as many years tied to the APTA conventions. Dozens of protesters have been arrested since Sunday for interfering with bus traffic and blocking entry to the McNamara Building as they sought to meet with staff members of U.S. Senators Carl Levin and Donald Riegle Jr. ADAPT has strongly criticized Detroit's Department of Transportation (D-DOT), which serves the city, and praised the suburban Southeastern Michigan Transportation Authority (SEMTA). “We fought for five years in Denver to get wheelchair lifts on all city buses there, and when we won in Denver, we went national," said Wade Blank, a Presbyterian minister whose 15-year-old daughter is confined to a wheelchair. THE PROTEST group, which Blank helped start, is upset with APTA for opposing its goal of wheelchair lifts on all buses. Five years ago, APTA won a lawsuit knocking down a requirement that the devices be installed on buses purchased with federal funds. Jack R. Gilstrap, APTA executive vice-president, called that too costly. “In Washington, D.C., $60 million was spent to provide elevators for the ‘subway stations, but only 36 handicapped people use those elevators on a given day," said Gilstrap. “We would much rather let each transit authority develop dial-a-ride and other more cost-effective services.” Gilstrap said it costs an average of $20,000 a bus to add wheelchair lifts, which often are unreliable. "THEY’VE NEVER given the wheelchair lift system a chance to work," said Frank A. Clark, chairman of the Detroit-based Coalition for the Human Rights of the Handicapped. “How much does it cost to keep these people at home or in a nursing facility." A 10 year old Michigan law, one of the most stringent in the United States, requires that all new buses bought with state funds have wheelchair lifts. California is the only other state with such a requirement. According to the Michigan Department of Transportation, 1,186 of the 2,127 publicly owned buses in the state have wheelchair lifts. Detroit recently bought 100 buses, but equipped only 20 with wheelchair lifts. The city did not have to follow the state law because it used city funds. ONLY 196 of the city's 606 buses — about 32 percent —— have the wheelchair equipment. By comparison, 140 of SEMTA’s 202 buses — more than 69 percent — are equipped with the lifts. And 440 of Denver's 760 buses — 58 percent — have the lifts. Denver's policy is to equip all new buses with the lifts: and the handicapped groups say they consider Denver's system a model that should be adopted by others. Clark complained that the Detroit lifts often don't work. “They don't maintain them at all," Clark said. “We'll be going into federal court soon to complain about the situation." CLARK’S GROUP has a five-year-old lawsuit pending before Federal District Judge Richard Suhrheinrich, charging Detroit with violating U.S. handicap access laws for mass transit, public buildings and walkways. The law requires that public property be accessible to the handicapped. Clark said members of his group monitor Detroit buses for operating lifts by attempting to board them while in wheelchairs. He said the group annually checks five routes Gratiot, Woodward, Grand River, Crosstown and East Warren — designated by D-DOT for handicapped access. "But even on those routes," Clark said, "we can't find any that work." By contrast," he said, "SEMTA maintains its lift equipment. D-DOT officials could not be reached for comment. Mayor Coleman A. Young’s press secretary, Robert Berg, referred questions on Detroit's recent bus purchase in state officials. NEIL LINCOLN, a spokesman for the Denver system, said it has come a long way quickly. “The lifts still break down," he added, “but not nearly as often." However, some cities like Chicago and Cleveland have not bought any wheelchair lifts because of the cost and maintenance problems. Spokesmen for those cities said they prefer to develop dial-a-ride and van service for the handicapped. Detroit has no dial-a-ride or van service. NEWS GRAPHIC: Handicapped accessible buses Here's a look at the number of buses that are handicap accessible and average number of daily riders on 6 transit systems: Wheelchair Lifts: Baltimore has 100. Chicago has 0, Cleveland has 0. Denver has 440, Detroit has 196, SEMTA has 140. Total Buses: Baltimore has 900, Chicago has 2,275, Cleveland has 656, Denver has 760, Detroit has 603, SEMTA has 203. Daily Riders: Baltimore has 240,000, Chicago has 1.6 million, Cleveland has 263,400, Denver has 160,000, Detroit has 180,000, SEMTA has 203,000. (59 small vans for handicapped, all wheelchair accessible.) end of news graphic. PHOTO: News Photo by W. Lynn Owens: A man in a jean jacket and hoodie, with bushy dark hair and a beard stands, back to the camera, by the door of a Denver Transit bus. On the steps at the doorway a thin young person is sitting, hands raised to grab on, as this person tries to lift themselves backward up and onto the bus. On the curb in front of these two people sits an empty manual wheelchair. Inside the bus you can see the silhouette of the bus driver sitting in the drivers seat. - ADAPT (217)
Mainstream magazine, no date listed, p.9. Attachment IV [Story continues in ADAPT 211 and then ADAPT 210 but is included here in its entirety for easier reading. Story seems to be cut off at the end.] Photo bottom half of page: Image of people marching down the center of the street, some carrying signs, one with the ADAPT logo and another saying, “APTA OPPRESSES." Line snakes back out of sight alongside traffic in the back. Wheelchairs are lined up smartly presenting an impressive image. [Headline] ADAPT PUBLIC TRANSIT OR ELSE by Mike Ervin One of the largest civil rights marches in history by people with disabilities was held Sunday, October 7, 1985 in downtown Los Angeles to protest the American Public Transit Association (APTA)'s policy of local option transit for disabled. In response to an “invitation” by American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT) to join in picketing the annual APTA convention, national leaders of the Disability Rights Movement converged at MacArthur Park to roll the 1.7 miles to the convention site at the Bonaventure Hotel. Bill Bolte of the California Association of the Physically Handicapped (CAPH) took a head count of the line of people in wheelchairs rolling single file down the middle of Wilshire Boulevard and announced that there was 215 present. The L.A. Police Department had refused to issue a parade permit to the group and had said it would not allow the long planned parade to be held on the street, but when 200 plus wheelchair users took to the pavement (no curb cuts) all the police could do was route traffic around the procession. It was an impressive sight; more than twice the number of people ADAPT had turned out for previous demonstrations at the annual conventions of APTA. As the line of people stretched more than a block in front of the posh Bonaventure Hotel where APTA was staying, the L.A. Police waited; there wasn’t much they could do except establish their presence. The protesters marched into the hotel lobby taking up most of the available space. Chants of “We will ride!" Filled the atrium below as bewildered hotel guests wondered what all this could possibly be about. The Hotel Security immediately blocked the one wheelchair accessible elevator to the main lobby. This escalated (so to speak) the confrontation, as demonstrators got out of their wheelchairs to block the escalators, saying “if you block our access, then we will block the escalators. No one will be able to use them." Meanwhile the police discussed the strategy of arresting certain people first whom they had identified as leaders. Photo: A man, Bob Kafka, sitting awkwardly, almost falling out of his manual wheelchair, apparently handcuffed behind his back. His legs are falling under the chair, and he is surrounded by four or more police officers. Article continues: Eight people, one woman and seven men, were arrested and booked without charges. The police told the media that the charge was “refusing to leave the scene of a riot.” The woman arrestee was released Sunday night, five of the men were released the following afternoon, and the last two men were released Tuesday morning after 53 disabled individuals held an all night vigil outside the county jail. On Tuesday morning, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), represented by Lou Nau, the chairman of the Disability Rights Committee of the ACLU, outlined the treatment that the arrestees faced. Four of the men were handcuffed behind their backs and left to sit in the police vehicles for up to five hours. Mike Auburger, a quadriplegic, was not allowed to use the bathroom for eight hours, causing hyperreflexia. Individuals on sustaining medication repeatedly asked for their medication, but never received it. Nau said to permit no bail for misdemeanor offenses is clearly against the law. Although APTA tried to discredit the protestors as a “small militant group of outsiders," they represented a wide spectrum of the Disability Rights Movement including Robert Funk, Executive Director of the Disability Rights and Education Defense Fund; Michael Winter, Director of the Center for Independent Living, Berkeley, CA; Judy Heumann, of the World Institute on Disability; Joe Zenzola, President, California Association of the Physically Handicapped; Peg Nosek, of Independent Living Research Utilization Project, Houston, TX; Catherine Johns, President of The Association on Handicapped Student Service Programs in Post-Secondary Education; John Chapples, Department of Rehabilitation, Boston, MA; Mark Johnson, Department of Rehabilitation, Denver, CO; Marco Bristo, Director, Access Living, Chicago, IL; Harlan Hahn, Professor, University of Southern California; and Don Galloway, D.C. Center for Independent Living. The following days saw many more protests in the Los Angeles area. On Wednesday, about 50 individuals arrived at the office of Larry Jackson, Director of the Long Beach Transit Authority, who is the incoming President of APTA. After being denied a meeting with him, they went out into the streets. The police gave them l0 minutes to disburse or be arrested. When no one moved, the police proceeded to arrest the protestors and take them to jail in 6 dial-a-ride vans. These individuals were booked and then released, as it was not possible for the Long Beach Police Department to accommodate so many disabled people. The passers-by had many different reactions to what they were experiencing; some were mad at being detained, some joined in. One man gave protestors a banner which read “help” and proceeded to distribute little American.... [rest of the article is not available.] Three photos. Photo 1: At the bottom of an escalator a mass of people in wheelchairs gathered together, Julie Farrar in the center, holding a picket sign: “APTA DESTROYED 504”. Photo 2: A man, Chris Hronis, lying on his side on the floor, handcuffed behind his back, surrounded by four or more police standing over him. Photo 3: Through the window of a van you see two man, Chris Hronis in back and Bob Kafka in front of him, sitting in wheelchairs. Both are handcuffed behind their backs. - ADAPT (585)
Handicapped Coloradan [Headline] These are the people who chased APTA George Florum, 47, of Colorado Springs, is a T3 para who fell out of a cherrypicker. He went to work for Atlantis and became involved with ADAPT in April of 1985. Florum has been arrested between 15 and 20 times on charges ranging from instigating a riot, blocking entrances, and chaining himself to doors and buses. "I think the disability movement has really grown," Florum said, "In April of '85 in San Antonio 15 people were willing to be arrested. Now people are standing up for their rights, and I think it's great." Joe Carle, 51, of Dallas, is a single amputee with artery problems. "I was the first to go through the training seminar," Carle said. "The second big seminar was to take on McDonald’s. Now, transportation is fairly won, but access will be a continuing battle. The disability movement can go anywhere." Rick James, 39, had encephalitis when he was two years old. Five years ago he was one of 20 people who did a "crawl on" on a bus, and three weeks later he was part of a group that got together and blocked a bus. “We will get ADA passed," James said, "and then take on any issues we feel necessary, such as health care, attendant care, the Greyhound company, housing - any of a number of issues." Cathy Thomas, 60, of Irving, Tex., has spina bifida and became involved with ADAPT - when a disability group she belonged to that was trying to get accessible transportation in Dallas asked ADAPT for help. She says, “At this point rights for disabled people are inevitable, We want to get as many buses accessible as possible. If President Bush is sincere in wanting to mainstream people with disabilities, then it's time he took the first step in getting us accessible transportation so we, too, can pursue the American dream." Rhonda Lester of Denver is the mother of Kenny Perkins, 5, who was refused access to an RTD bus in October 1987. “They viewed Kenny as a baby because of his chair," Lester said. “They wanted to board him separately from his chair-in other words, he was to be carried on. So I called Wade Blank on a Thursday and on Friday help came. Larry, George, Ken, ET and Julie blocked a bus. They let us on, we changed the policy, and I was allowed to attend a training meeting." When asked if there has been a lot of resistance to Kenny, Lester said, "Oh, yeah. People see one of ‘Jerry's Kids,' not the wheelchair I hope our actions and civil disobedience help to get full integration for my son." As to the controversial issue of children in the disability rights movement, Lester said, "As the mother of a disabled son, I feel that no one has a bigger right than myself to fight for my son's rights, although there are some who would disagree very strongly with this view. "Children need to be in the movement because it is for the children . . .the ultimate goal.” THANK YOU, ADAPT A poem by Rhonda Lester There is a little boy Very close to my heart Who is a bit different But handsome and smart. Strangers who meet him Can't get past the chair, But he goes on bravely, Not seeming to care. He's strong and he's tough- He almost has to be- But he is one of the warriors Who wants to be free. We are always standing by you, For our fight is real. We wanted you to know How grateful we feel. So thank you all clearly For all that you've done For the movement, myself, And my son. All photos in this issue by Bob Conrad. PHOTO: of George Florum looking to the side in an "ADAPT or perish" t-shirt. His dark hair is short and a trim beard and mustache outline his mouth and jaw. He looks fit and determined. PHOTO: George Cooper, an older man in a wheelchair blocks a doorway partially with another person in a manual wheelchair. Walking bureaucrats, some with badges stand behind them looking as though they want to get through. George is speaking with a woman who is looking down toward the floor. Caption: George Cooper of Dallas occupies the Federal Building. PHOTO: A small person in a manual wheelchair being pushed by a woman behind, sits at one end of some police barricades while a man in a manual chair sits at the other end. Behind the barricades a ways off is a line of police standing together. Caption: At the barricades. PHOTO: A group of people in wheelchairs is gathered at one side of the picture, a woman in a wheelchair at the back of the group holds high the ADAPT flag. Beneath it you can see Lincoln Blank and a few other protesters are clustered on the other side. The group seems to be at the entrance of a hotel type building. Caption: A large flag is unfurled. - ADAPT (135)
The Denver Post 7/8/90 [This article continues in ADAPT 138, but the entire story has been included here for easier reading] Perspective Access for the disabled: Cost vs. benefit Photo by RTD staff: A smiling African American man in a manual wheelchair, wearing a beret and with a sports coat over his lap is being helped to board a city bus by the driver, who is behind him. In front of the lift a woman stands waiting to board. Caption reads: A LIFT: The President's Committee on Employment of People with Disabilities was given a demonstration of an RTD lift during its 1987 convention which was held in Denver. By Al Knight Denver Post Perspective Editor Now, while the Americans with Disabilities Act is awaiting President Bush’s signature, would be a good time to reflect on what has been learned by this city's experience in attempting to provide full wheelchair access to public transportation. Assuming the president signs the bill as he says he will, public transit systems all over America will have to begin purchasing new buses equipped with wheelchair lifts, as well instituting a variety of other steps designed to enlarge employment opportunities for the disabled, improve services in state and local government, enlarge public accommodations, and create a national telecommunication relay service to aid the blind and deaf. Critics of the bill have argued that the nation is embarking upon a program without the vaguest clue of what its ultimate cost will be. In many ways, the dispute is a duplication of what took place in Denver in the early 1980s as the Regional Transportation District developed its policy on how rapidly to expand wheelchair access. There were a number of protests in which disabled residents in wheelchairs disrupted RTD service and were arrested. The protests were particularly disturbing for all concerned — RTD, the drivers and the police. The sight of an abled-bodied police officer toting away a wheelchair-bound citizen is not the stuff for law enforcement scrapbooks, nor is it the kind of publicity designed to attract bus riders generally. In 1982, the RTD board, which then was an appointed body, voted against equipping 89 new buses with special lifts capable of handling wheelchair passengers. That vote set off the protests. An elected board took over in 1983 and one of its first acts was to reverse that vote and authorize the purchase of the lifts at a cost of well over $1 million. At the same time RTD struggled with the issue of whether to retrofit existing buses with lifts, and in 1985 resolved it with a resolution that it would buy lifts for all new buses, but not pursue a retrofitting program. There had been a history of mechanical problems with some of the lifts, and on more than one occasion a lift would fail, dumping the wheelchair passenger in the process. In 1982, then Gov. Dick Lamm refused to go along with a proposal by the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation, which was demanding wheelchair access to “all U.S. public buses." Lamm suggested in a speech to the American Public Transit Association that such a policy might result in rides costing $600 each: “If America can't say no to a system that costs $600 per ride, we don't deserve to continue as a great nation.“ But as they say, that was then, this is now. Just last fall, RTD was awarded a special citation for having "the finest accessible bus service in the nation." The award came from the President's Committee on Employment of People with Disabilities. Indeed. it is beyond dispute that RTD has in some respects led the nation. Its experience in developing its current fleet of buses was the prime example used by congressional supporters of the Americans with Disabilities Act. In addition, it is a fact that RTD was the first agency to order its over-the-road buses equipped with lifts. Until RTD's first order, these larger vehicles had been built without lifts. The RTD program hasn’t been accomplished without significant expense. It has cost about $8 million for the lift equipment and millions more for parts, maintenance and training. But the latest figures show per-ride costs are far below the $600 figure mentioned by Lamm. The lifts cost about $13,000 a copy. Because the life of a bus normally is calculated at 12 years, this works out to a little more than $1,000 a bus per year. To this must be added the maintenance cost, which has been dropping each year. As recently as 1985 the cost of maintaining an individual lift was $1,798. This year the average is just over $500. Even without the retrofitting program rejected by the board in 1985, RTD has managed to increase greatly its percentage of lift-equipped buses. In 1985, only 54 percent of buses were so equipped. This year 81 percent are. In recent years, disabled ridership has gone up sharply. In 1982 it was just over 9,000 wheelchair boardings, but last year it reached an estimated 45,000. According to RTD figures, the per-ride cost may have reached $80 in 1984, but with the increase in ridership and the drop in maintenance cost, the cost per ride now has dropped to about $19 a ride, according to the latest calculations. What is not known is how many of Denver’s disabled community actually are served by the lifts. In the mid-1980s, it was estimated that only a few hundred wheelchair-bound residents were regular bus riders. Even as RTD has fitted new buses with the lifts, demands for its HandyRide service have continued to increase. This door-to-door service is available to both the elderly and the handicapped. Some of its wheelchair passengers could be served by regular buses, but many others are unable to get to the bus stop and therefore require the HandyRide service. Precise calculations aren’t available, but it is estimated the cost per ride for using the van service is about $50. Lamm, contacted this week, said he basically hasn’t changed his position on the issue. He said the $600 figure he used in 1982 was based on the experience of the St. Louis bus company. “To govern is to choose," he said, "and I don't believe this nation should make every bus wheelchair-accessible. Should the handicapped be provided transportation? Of course, but it should be provided in the most cost-effective way possible.” Lamm mentioned the expensive elevator system that is a part of the Washington, D.C., subway system as an example of a method that isn't cost-effective. The Denver experience does indicate that the costs of accommodating the wheelchair-bound citizen may not be an endlessly upward spiral. But the key indicator that needs watching is the number of passengers using the service. The taxpayers, the RTD board and staff members clearly have done their part. The wheelchair service is now available on nearly every bus, yet ridership has flattened out. The estimate of 45,000 wheelchair passengers for 1989 is just a few hundred higher than the 1986 level. More persons must be encouraged to use the service. Now that maintenance costs are down, the only way to decrease the still-considerate per-ride cost is to increase the number of passengers using the lifts. The most compelling case the disabled community can make for greater access is to demonstrate an even higher usage of the existing facilities. Highlighted Text: Even without the retrofitting program rejected by the board in 1985, RTD has managed to increase greatly its percentage of lift-equipped buses. In 1985, only 54 percent of buses were so equipped. This year 81 percent are. Photo by The Denver Post/Duane Howell: A slight woman in a wheelchair is being escorted out by two uniformed and one plainclothes police. She is telling one of the officers something and they are all listening with slight smiles on their faces. Behind this group a man in a wheelchair is following, escorted by another police officer and behind them three other policemen stand guard. Caption reads: PROTEST: An unidentified demonstrator at the Regional Transportation District office was escorted out during a 1982 protest over the purchase of new buses. - ADAPT (32)
History and Mission Independent Living for People with Disabilities [This brochure continues in ADAPT 33, but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] PHOTO by Tom Olin (bottom right): A man (George Roberts) in wheelchair raises the power fist with his right hand. He is carrying a sign that reads "Nursing Homes = Jail." Behind him a group of other wheelchair protesters are lining up. Atlantis was founded in 1975, the second “Independent Living Center” in the country after Berkeley. A group of young disabled adults and six concerned staff from a Denver nursing home concluded that no amount of outings to concerts or bingo games could normalize life for these young people. The real solution was to move into the community, in apartments within the city’s neighborhoods, to create self-determined lifestyles where the disabled clients choose their own food, direct their own care, and determine their own priorities. This was a revolutionary concept in 1975, but the people of Atlantis were able to convince the State Legislature to fund personal care assistance outside an institutional setting for the very first time. In the more than fifteen years since its founding, the agency has been able to assist over 400 disabled adults in moving from sheltered settings and maintaining independent lives. The Atlantis Community staff specializes in assistance for very severely, multiply-disabled people, carrying out our belief that any disabled person can live outside an institution, if s/he is willing to accept the risks and inconveniences in order to enjoy self-determination and liberty. To that end, the staff and clients are experts in helping with everything from finding an apartment to applying for benefits, from grocery shopping to weddings, from cooking training to camping trips. The assistance with daily living activities and the basic skills training and reinforcement offered are complemented by the trained and state-certified staff of home health aides and their supervisors who visit the clients at home as often as needed — usually several times a day. The people of Atlantis also offer other independent living services to people throughout the nation — ranging from information and referral services to assertiveness training and technical assistance. The city of Denver and the Atlantis Community have become a mecca for disabled people seeking an accessible environment and comprehensive services. PHOTO by Tom Olin (top left corner): 4 people in wheelchairs (left to right, Joe Carle, Diane Coleman, Bob Kafka and Mark Johnson) lead a march. Everyone is dressed in revolutionary war garb -- wigs, three cornered hats, jackets with braid on them. Over their heads is a large flag, the ADAPT flag. PHOTO (bottom right): An older man (Mel Conrardy) in a white jacket and pants, sits in a wheelchair on a lift at the front door of a bus. To his right on the side of the bus door it says RTD Welcome Aboard. Mel looks relaxed and is smiling. - ADAPT (588)
Fort Worth Star Telegram handwritten: 3-26-89 [sic] [Headline] An Easter sit-in by activists in the Federal Building [This story appears in 588 and continues on 587, but is entirely included here for ease of reading.] PHOTO (by Fort Worth Star-Telegram/ RICKY MOON): In a fairly fancy office with leather chairs and wooden bookshelves and table, a group of disabled people sit in a semi circle. On the left side of the picture is a small man (Paul Alexander) in a grey suit and small, personally adapted wheelchair; his head is back and he is kind of looking over his shoulder at some of the others in the room. Next to him in a comfy padded chair sits a man with black hair, mustache and beard (Frank Lozano) in an ADAPT no steps logo shirt. Over his head he holds a poster that says "Access not excuses DON'T APPEAL." Next to him is a man in a manaul wheelchair (Bob Kafka) who is also wearing an ADAPT no steps logo shirt, suspenders and blue jeans. Beside him is a doorway and someone is standing in the doorway, on the other side with his back to the group. On the other side of the door is a woman in a wheelchair (Kathy Gaines) with curly hair and a pink blouse; she appears to be in a wheelchair as well. She is holding a sign but you can't read it from the angle it's at. Beside her, and at the front of the picture is a man (Joe Carle) sitting in an armchair with his legs up in his wheelchair; one leg is amputed below the knee. He is wearing a vest and ADAPT T-shirt on the arm of which you can see the list of cities where ADAPT has held actions. He is holding up and looking at a poster that reads "Bush says Mainstream Disabled." Caption reads: Paul Alexander, left, and Kathy Gaines, second from right, tried to negotiate for Frank Lozano and Bob Kafka, center, and Joe Carle, right. [Headline] Disabled demand better access BY Bob GWIZDZ Fort Worth StarTelegram Four people lobbying for better access to public transportation for disabled people refused to leave the Federal Building in downtown Fort Worth last night, promising to stay until Monday. Members of the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation earlier in the day had demanded that a local Department of Transportation official call the White House in support of their cause. Similar actions were planned in other cities today. “We plan to stay through Easter and welcome Wilbur Hare Monday morning.“ said Bob Kafka, a community organizer with the group. “On Monday we'll decide where we go from there.“ Hare, regional manager of the Urban Mass Transportation Administration, refused the group's request that he call White House chief of staff John Sununu in support of a recent federal appeals court decision requiring wheelchair lifts on all new public buses purchased with federal money. Group members say they think the Department of Transportation will appeal the decision. ln Philadelphia, eight people were escorted from a federal building that contains the regional transportation administration office when the building closed at 5 p.m. Sieglinde Shapiro, who headed the delegation of disabled people, said she read a statement to the official in charge. The statement noted that similar meeting had been scheduled with regional directors in New York, Boston, Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Seattle, Washington, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Ariz., and Salt Lake City, she said. The Associated Press office in Dallas said it had no reports of meetings with federal officials there. The Fort Worth office of the transportation department serves the Metroplex. Shapiro said “our sources in Washington tell us that the U.S. Department of Transportation is poised to appeal” the Feb. 13 decision by the 3rd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals. The ruling requires that every bus newly purchased with federal assistance be wheelchair accessible, and that those unable use buses be provided with adequate transportation. The Fort Worth protest began when between 20 and 30 demonstrators, many in wheelchairs, arrived at the Federal Building around 1 p.m. after assembling at nearby Burnett Park. Hare, who said he received word Wednesday that a protest was planned, asked the protesters to meet with him downstairs at the Federal Building. The demonstrators refused. “That’s how you treat the disabled separate,” Kafka said to Hare. “We want to see you on the ninth floor, in your office, like everybody else. It’s the same thing as transportation — we want access like everybody else.” After a few protesters entered the building, Federal Protective Service officers locked the doors, forcing more than half of the demonstrators to remain outside. Hare said his office would not accommodate all the protesters. He declined to say who ordered the officers to lock the doors. About 10 protesters met with Hare in his office. “I’m not calling Mr. Sununu, but if you have a message for him, I’ll do my best to get it delivered,” Hare said. “lf you’d like to make a call, then go where you conduct your business and make the call. I’m sure you’ve made your views known to (President) Bush and if you haven’t, there are better ways to do it than tying up this office all afternoon.” Hare did call the Washington headquarters of the transportation administration and said he relayed the protesters’ message to officials there. When Hare left at 4:45 p.m., his normal quitting time, four protesters decided to remain. “We weren’t anticipating Mr. Hare being so obstinate,” Kafka said. “We expected a quick reaction and a phone call. It just shows their real arrogance toward disabled people.” At 6 p.m., Casey Bowen, director of building operations with the General Services Administration, told the protesters that he would prefer they leave, but that he had no intention of forcibly removing them. But Bowen said he would not allow them to have food sent in, and he had the telephones removed from the office. “Quite frankly, our intent is not to encourage this sort of protest,” Bowen said. Reporters could not contact the protesters later in the evening and building guards declined to comment. The protesters, who had no provisions other than a couple of granola bars and soft drinks, have access to the building's snack and soft drink machines. Besides Kafka, 43, of Austin, the protesters who remained in the building last night were Joe Carle, 50, and Frank Lozano, 39, both of Dallas, and Tim Baker, 26, of Austin. Kafka has used a wheelchair since he suffered a broken neck in an auto accident 10 years ago. Carle suffers from a circulation disorder, has had part of one leg amputated and has used a wheelchair for nine years. Lozano is blind, the result of an auto accident five years ago. Baker suffers from severe cerebral palsy. Paul Alexander, a Fort Worth lawyer who uses a wheelchair, arrived late in the afternoon to try to negotiate a settlement. When it became apparent that the protesters were determined to stay, Alexander tried to arrange for permission for food delivery. Alexander said arrangements could not be made. “Us being locked up all weekend symbolizes the thousands of disabled people who are locked up in their homes," Carle said. “Will it do any good? Or will it make you look like a jackass? l don’t know the answer. I honestly don’t." Staff writer Betsy C.M. Tong contributed to this report. - ADAPT (42)
The Denver Post? [Headline] Atlantis Residents Train for Hot Line Handicapped persons residing in the Atlantis Community in Denver are being trained to man a telephone hot line to respond to the emergency needs of all the disabled in Denver. Wade Blank, Atlantis co-director, said the hot line -- soon to be put into service -- is being funded by the Colorado Vocational Rehabilitation Division. [Subheading] FURNITURE GIVEN In other developments at Atlantis, the Denver Hilton Hotel ls donating furniture for the apartments in which the handicapped persons reside at the Las Casitas Public Housing Development here. The furniture is being made available by the hotel as the result of remodeling of some of the Hilton’s rooms, Blank noted. Atlantis ls a nonprofit organization which began operations last spring to offer the handicapped the opportunity to live in apartments so that they might attempt to realize their full potential. Blank also said the IBM Corp. in Denver, through its staff member Burt Lipell, donated a new washer and dryer to Atlantis. This equipment is operated by George Roberts, one of the Atlantis residents. The Denver City Council, Blank said, is being asked to appropriate $2,000 for installation of sidewalks among all the Atlantis apartments before winter comes. Atlantis has received three new electric wheel chairs and one manual chair through the efforts of Dr. James Syner of Medicaid’s special Medical Equipment division. [Subheading] COMMUNICATIONS A communications system also ls being planned among each of the apartments at Atlantis. And one of Atlantis’ most severely disabled residents is the coordinator of a wheel chair van which Atlantis leases from this resident, Blank said. This project also is funded by the rehabilitation division. Five Atlantis residents are attending local schools or colleges - one resident attending Metropolitan State College, one at Red Rocks School, two at Boettcher School and one at Opportunity School. PHOTO on bottom: Side view of a man's (Wade Blank) head, with below the shoulder long straight blondish hair, clean shaven, and wearing round glasses and a dark shirt. Caption reads: Wade Blank, The Disabled. Next article on right Disabled Helped by Wirth's Compassion To the Denver Post: IN A RECENT LETTER to the Forum (April 27), Rita Jackson complained that Representative's Wirth office is not accessible to the handicapped "via the front door." A partial truth can be a big lie, and the whole truth should be told. It is true that the front door is hard to negotiate in a wheelchair, but the office building is accessible from the rear, which is where the parking lot is located. Here, as in many office buildings, the "rear" is the normal, preferred building entrance, and as no "second class" connotations. What is more important, Tim Wirth is not the kind of ivory tower legislator who hides in his office and expects the world, disabled included, to bring its problems to him. Tim Wirth constantly leaves his office, goes out into the community, and talks to the people about their problems in their own environment. The disabled have often been helped by his blend of energy and compassion. Atlantis has found that Tim Wirth's heart and mind are always accessible, and that is what counts. Atlantis' Residents - Carolyn Finnell, Darrell Clark, Jackie Nielsen, Jean Joyce, Delbert Spotts, Jim Lundvall, Gary Van Lake, George Roberts, Will Cornelison, Alex Chavez Denver AD in a box: The Perfect Gift... "Companions" A book of unusual poetry by Michael Smith. Available soon at local book stores (All proceeds, after printing and selling costs, will go to the Atlantis Community for the handicapped in Denver.) PHOTO: Close-up of a man (Michael Smith) with long hair and dark mustache and beard looking up soulfully from a bed. Someone, mostly out of the picture, is looking down at him. - ADAPT (45)
Rocky Mountain News Mon., March 22, 1976, Denver, Colo. Banner Headline for story. PHOTO on left of headline: Head and shoulders shot of a young man (Michael Smith) with dark hair, pulled back in ponytail, dark beard and moustache. His head is tilted slightly to one side and he is smiling a bit. Caption reads: Michael Smith. He had a dream; He prayed that He would walk again someday. But someday never came. [Headline] Late poet a plaintiff in nursing home case Page 5 [Banner headline in ADAPT 44. Story starts here in ADAPT 45 and continues in ADAPT 46, but the entire text is included here for ease of reading.] Late poet was plaintiff in nursing home lawsuit By Jonathan Dedmon, News Staff Michael Smith was a poet. A victim of muscular dystrophy, Michael wasn't able to hold a pen, however. Weighing less than 100 pounds, one of the few physical tasks he was able to perform was to turn the pages of the many books he read. He would keep stanzas of poetry stored in his head and wait for friends or staff at the Heritage House Nursing Home in Lakewood where he lived to have free time so he could dictate his verse. A former aide remembers when she would be busy caring for patients and Mike would say, "Got to write." "We'd say, ‘Sorry, Mike‘ Don‘t have time.‘ A lot of his poetry was lost." In addition to being a poet, Mike also was an idealist. Because of what friends say was that idealism, in spite of the fact Mike died in October at the age of 21, he lives on not only in a published book of his poems but also in a giant legal battle in U.S. District Court. THE BATTLE COULD have a large impact on the care of handicapped patients in nursing homes throughout the country since it attacks the entire method of delivering health care. The suit, in which Mike was an original plaintiff, charges nursing home patients routinely are being denied their rights and even fundamental medical care, contrary to the wishes of Congress in its Medicaid law. U.S. Judge Richard Matsch currently is considering how much jurisdiction the federal court has in the case. But already a number of patients and nursing home employees have come forward with a series of affidavits which are a litany of patient abuse. The charges are leveled primarily against the former Heritage House Nursing Center in Lakewood, which since has been sold and is operating under new management and a new name. The suit’s allegations range from patients not having the colostomy bags changed to failure of the staff to provide any rehabilitation efforts. THE NURSING HOME attorney and a part owner deny the charges which are contained in a half dozen affidavits filed with the court. Pam Malpass worked as an aide from August 1974 to February of last year. Here are parts of her affidavit: “People were punished sometimes by having their wheelchairs turned off, cut their mobility (sic). Wheelchairs at Heritage House were constantly in disrepair and falling apart leading to weekly crises. Paul Brae, a Heritage House resident, fell out of his chair because it was falling apart and crawled under his bed and said he was (sic) [not] going to come out until he got a new wheelchair [cut off] we procured for him with some difficulty. Bowel programs for a number of residents weren't maintained properly resulting in infections. Colostomies and catheters weren't cleaned properly or regularly also resulting in infections for a number of patients. I also often observed that colostomy bags and catheters improperly were connected to the people that needed them with the result that they leaked and backed up." Michael Ray, an orderly from May 1974 to January of last year, said in his affidavit that on at least a dozen occasions, he made marks with a felt-tipped pen on patients’ dressings on open bed sores to make sure they were being changed twice a day as they should have been. “Each time when I looked, a day later, sometimes longer, the dressings I had put on with the markings were still there. The unclean sores lead to more serious complications and infections. During the six months I was working at Heritage House I never saw a doctor." FAILURE TO MAINTAIN a bowel program can lead to bowel poisoning and even to surgery. Mark Biles was impacted for three weeks while I was there necessitating an elaborate program of oral laxatives, suppositories and enemas to give him relief. The owners and the administrators always met suggestions or requests from the staff on behalf of patients residing there with the remark that they cost too much or if you don't like it why don't you get the hell out. “The only time that Heritage House was concemed about the cleanliness of the home was when the state inspection team announced it would appear.” ACCORDING TO JOHN Holland, who heads a team of Legal Aid attorneys working on the case, “We're saying that when Congress established Medicaid, it intended to create a real system of delivering high quality medical care to poor people, not a system that couldn't deliver for a significant number. The benefits aren't getting there.” A particular target is the U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare (HEW), which is charged with making sure nursing homes comply with federal standards to insure high quality health care. Legal Aid, which is reluctant to say too much about the case because it is pending, feels HEW merely established a “paper compliance" system whereas Congress wanted a compliance system to “see benefits and rights delivered and prevent the kinds of injuries and deprivations of rights alleged in the suit." THE SUIT NAMES every rung in the bureaucracy which participates in the provision of nursing home care, ranging from the owners of Heritage House to the state Department of Social Services and HEW. In addition to asking for monetary damages, the suit also seeks an injunction prohibiting deprivation of medical care and patient rights. The rights include proper medical and psychosocial treatment and care, the right to seek legal counsel and manage personal monies, the right to voice grievances and the right to adequate notice and opportunity for a hearing prior to transfer, among others. It also asks HEW to come up with a decent system of enforcing compliance with such federal laws. Because of the complex nature of the suit, it already has become a “paper nightmare," according to Holland, and a “paper war,“ according to Heritage House attomey Bob Eberhardt. THE PLEADINGS STAND some two feet high and the court hasn't decided jurisdiction yet. Perhaps one of the most damning affidavits filed so far is by Janice Jacobson, a former administrator of Heritage House. “Heritage House was filthy, cockroaches had infested the entire home (with the exception of the kitchen). The walls wene very dirty and an odor of urine permeated the air. “Flies were everywhere. They present a particular problem to those persons who are bedfast or paralyzed because they can't swat the flies from their faces or bodies. “Temperature controls were broken. Zone control valves which control the room temperature were corroded either open or shut so that the rooms were unbearably hot or cold. “INDIVIDUAL CARE PLANS are either totally inadequate or not existent." “Patients who had to be fed were degraded by impatient orderlies who constantly hurried them along faster than they could comfortably go on the pretext of there not being enough time to feed them." “Staff would get angry with people for having something wrong with them like uncontrolled bowels." “Lots of patients would never get dressed every day. The staff didn’t like to take the time to dress them. By keeping patients undressed a general institutional goal of keeping them in bed and more inactive was more readily achieved. “It was not uncommon for people who did get dressed to not be undressed but rather to sleep in their clothes. l received complaints from one family that one of the male patients there had the same clothes on for weeks. They knew because the same spot was on his shirt for three weeks." “Visitors and relatives often complained that their relatives or friends hadn't received baths or showers for weeks." “It was reported to me by nursing staff the director of nursing believed physical correction of resident misconduct was permissible and that she employed a technique of having persons she decided were misbehaving placed in cold showers." “The call button system at Heritage House often wasn't working and when it was, working staff very often didn't respond to calls. There was one incident while I was there where family members called in and said they heard their mother was dead. The nurse had to go down to the room to see if this was so. The woman had been dead for several hours." Mrs. Jacobson says, in her view, Heritage House was “warehousing people, not delivering health care." "Residents had no more rights than children and the official view was that the staff knew what was best for them and if the patients didn't think we were doing everything right or what they needed they could just leave." Management expressed this view often. “PATIENTS WERE KEPT tractable and quiescent by intimidation and medication. Encouraging people to be as normal as they can be is the essence of good nursing care. It was not done at Heritage House.“ In response, Heritage House attorney Eberhardt said the accusations are “totally untrue and completely without foundation. You can't cross-examine affidavits. The truth will come out in the trial. “ He also points to the affidavit of Allen Buckingham, regional director of the HEW office of Long Term Care Standards Enforcement. Buckingham stated his office never received any complaints concerning the allegations. Oscar Gross, former part owner and also a defendant, said he never would have been able to keep his license if the allegations were true. In addition, he said his home was the only home to provide a wing specifically for handicapped youths and he even received two awards from the wing. “We tried to do our best," he said. He also offered to take the News to the home to interview patients about conditions. He said his wife still visits patients. Gross sold the home in February and it now is under new management. Gross said he sold the home simply as “a business transaction.“ Before Michael Smith died last year, he testified at one hearing on the case. “He already felt he had won," recalled Mrs. Malpass. - ADAPT (640)
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1990 Disabled protesters seize college building (This article continues in ADAPT 632, the entire text is included here for ease of reading.) PHOTO by Johnny Crawford/Staff: A thin man, Claude Holcomb, sits in a dark motorized chair in front of a huge memorial to Martin Luther King. He sits at an angle in his chair, in a button down striped shirt, his knees wide apart and thin rigid hands resting on his arm rests. Behind him the white memorial reads In memory of Martin Luther King Jr., 1929 - 1968, Outstanding alumnus of Morehouse College ..., World famous leader of the non-violent movement ..., Distinguished winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. From Morehouse College he launched his humanitarian pilgrimage to create the beloved community and for that purpose he moved... the classroom and his pulpit ... into immortality. ...Baptist Convention ... President ... General Secretary... College. Claude's chair blocks the view of some of the memorial's verbiage. You can see the push handle and part of the wheel of another chair next to him. Caption reads: Claude Holcomb at the Martin Luther King Jr. memorial at Morehouse College. Protesters compared their struggle to the civil rights leader's. Morehouse president’s office blocked By Ben Smith III, Staff writer Saying Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. would smile on their protest, nearly 200 disabled activists on Monday seized the administration building on the campus where he was educated. The demonstrators, members of Americans Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT), a national advocacy group for the disabled, took over Gloster Hall at Morehouse College in southwest Atlanta and barricaded the school president’s office. “This is a college that has always valued human rights,” said Michael Auberger, a co-founder of the group. “This is another minority that is trying to gain its human rights.” The protest was intended to force Morehouse President Leroy Keith to arrange a meeting with Louis Sullivan, secretary of Health and Human Services and an alumnus and former dean of the Morehouse School of Medicine. Group members were angry at Dr. Sullivan for not responding to their invitation to meet with them although he spoke at an AIDS symposium in Atlanta last week. “Morehouse Medical College invited him to speak. He came. This group invited him to speak on an issue as serious as AIDS. He chose to ignore the issue," said Mr. Auberger. More than a dozen wheelchair-bound activists rolled into Dr. Keith's office before noon Monday and barricaded the door. Scores of additional protesters followed, chanting, “We want Sullivan" and "We shall overcome,” and blocked the front door and hallways. Late in the afternoon, Dr. Keith exited through a rear door, and many other employees left the building. College officials said they were puzzled that the demonstrators took their protest to the Morehouse College administration building instead of the Morehouse School of Medicine, which is a separate institution. Richard Ammons, a school spokesman, said Dr. Keith had contacted Dr. Sullivan, who said he would not meet with the protesters. But the regional director of Department of Health and Human Services agreed to meet with demonstrators in his office today, Mr. Ammons added. “We as an institution are powerless to do anything other than [contact Dr. Sullivan],” Mr. Ammons told the protesters. “And we are asking you to leave at this time." Lee Jackson, a demonstrator, replied, “We’re going to wait right here for Sullivan.” At least 50 demonstrators said they planned to remain in the building until Dr. Sullivan meets with them or they are arrested. School officials said the college was reluctant to have the protesters arrested. The protesters said they chose to come to Georgia, in part, because the state is one of the worst at caring for the disabled. Mark Johnson of Alpharetta a spokesman for the Georgia branch of ADAPT, said the state offers no state-funded care for disabled people outside of nursing homes and no matching supplements for federal disability benefits. Most states offer such assistance, Mr. Johnson added. Protesters also complained that residential care facilities can be opened in Georgia with nothing more than a a business license. Some students who were locked out of Gloster Hall complained about the protesters, but others called their objections “hypocritical” because of the school's civil rights tradition. "Anytime you're dealing with basic human rights, protests may inconvenience some people," said Otis Moss, 20, a Morehouse philosophy and religion major. “But you have to understand that ultimately it's going to benefit all." Staff writer Lyle Harris contributed to this report. Photo by Johnny Crawford/Staff: The front of an ADAPT march. On the left side are the ADAPT marchers, most in wheelchairs, on the right, a line of parked cars at the side of the street the group is marching down. First in line is Lee Jackson in a white ADAPT sweatshirt and in a manual chair. He is African American and has his head shaved completely bald; he looks very intense. He is being pushed by Babs Johnson. Behind them is Mike Auberger in his motorized wheelchair with his left leg fully extended with foot in a protective boot; he's wearing a black ADAPT shirt still with the no steps logo. Behind him is Clayton Jones wearing the black ADAPT shirt and in a manual chair. Behind him you can see Frank McComb being pushed by Lori Eastwood. As the line snakes back from there you can see more people in the black T-shirts but their faces become less distinct until the whole group fades away. Caption reads: More than 150 advocates for the handicapped move down Westview Drive at Morehouse College. At the front of the line is Lee Jackson. There is a second photo in the text of the article, a close up of an African American man's face. He is wearing a suit and tie. Below it is the caption: Leroy Keith. - ADAPT (122)
Denver Post [This article continues on in ADAPT 123, but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] Photo by Lyn Alweis: A short haired man in a jacket and dark slacks [Mel Conrardy] is lifted in his wheelchair from the sidewalk to a bus. The lift comes out of the front door of the bus and has railings on either side of the lift almost as tall as the seated man. Just by the bus door is a sign on the side of the bus that says "RTD Welcome Aboard." Caption: An RTD bus with wheelchair lift provides mobility for Mel Conrardy Title: Leaders of handicapped rate RTD service best in country By Norm Udevitz, Denver Post Staff Writer Disabled Denverites just a few years ago had as much chance of riding a bus as they did of climbing Mount Everest. “It was brutal the way RTD treated us,” said Mike Auberger, an official in the Atlantis Community, for the disabled and a leader in the fight that has turned the Regional Transportation District’s handicapped service around. In the 1970s and early 1980s, RTD busses then rarely equipped with wheelchair lifts, often left wheelchair-bound riders stranded on streets. Drivers, lacking training in dealing with visually or language impaired people, panicked when blind or deaf riders tried to board buses. “It used to be that even in the dead of winter, when it was below zero, those of us in wheelchairs would wait 2 or 3 hours for a bus to finally stop," Auberger recalls. “And often the lift was broken and we couldn't get on the bus anyway. And usually the drivers were rude and angry. They would tell us that we were ruining their schedules." But conditions have changed, Auberger says: “Right now, Denver has the most accessible public transit system for the handicapped — and all the public - in the country." Debbie Ellis, a state social services worker who heads the agency's Handicapped Advisory Council, agrees, saying: “It took a lot of pressure, but RTD has responded and now the bus system is doing a good job of serving the handicapped." Leaders of national programs for the disabled also agree. In fact, the President's Committee on Employment of the Handicapped will bring 5,000 delegates, many of them handicapped, to its national conference in Denver in April. This will be the first time in four decades the group has held its national session outside of Washington DC. “One of the key reasons we're meeting in Denver this year is because it just might be the most comfortable city in the country for the handicapped,” says Sharon Milcrut, head of the Colorado Coalition for Persons with Disabilities, which is hosting the conference. “A very important aspect of that comfort," she notes, “is how accessible the transit system is for the handicapped.” It didn't get that way easily. In the decade between 1974 and 1984, handicapped activists had to pressure indifferent RTD administrators and directors. Each gain was hard won. “We used every tactic in the book, from lawsuits to bus blockades on the street and sit-ins at the RTD offices," says Wade Blank, an Atlantis group director. “The lawsuits didn't help much but when we took to the streets in the late 1970s, I think that's when we started getting their attention." Blank and others also say the 1984 hiring of Ed Colby as RTD general manager helped. Before he arrived, less than half of the 750 RTD buses had wheelchair lifts, which often were in disrepair. Training for drivers to learn how to deal with handicapped riders was minimal. Agency directors resisted change. RTD relied heavily on a costly special van operation called Handyride - a door-to-door pickup service for handicapped. It has cost $13[? glare makes number hard to read] million to run since it began in 1975. “Over the past couple of years the turnaround has been phenomenal," Auberger says. “All of RTD's new buses are being ordered with lifts and older buses are being retrofitted." By 1986's end, almost 80 percent of the bus fleet — 608 of 765 buses — had wheelchair lifts; 82 percent of the fleet's 6,242 daily trips are now accessible for the disabled. Plans call for the fleet to be 100 percent lift-equipped by 1987's end. “The lifts aren't breaking down all the time now, either," Auberger said, noting that agency officials found drivers had neglected to report broken lifts: “That way the lifts stayed broken and drivers had an excuse for not picking us up. A bunch of people were fired over that and others realized that Colby wasn't kidding about improving handicapped service." Driver training also has improved dramatically. “It isn't perfect yet,” Ellis of the advisory council says. "But everyone is working hard at it. What we are finding is that 20 percent of the drivers understand that they are moving people, all kinds of people, and they're really great with the handicapped. “Another 20 percent figure their job is to move buses and to heck with passengers, all kinds of passengers. That bottom 20 percent probably won't ever change. So we're working real hard on the 60 percent in between," Ellis says. Drivers, for example, learn to help blind riders. “That’s an improvement that helps the disabled, but it also helps regular passengers who are newcomers to the city,” Ellis says. All the improvements haven't come cheap. Since 1974, more than $5million has been spent on lifts and lift maintenance, most of the expense was incurred in the last three years. RTD plans to spend $9 million more in the next six years to keep the fleet up to its current standards and pay for more driver training. Another $4 million will be spent on HandyRide service. Ironically, Auberger and Ellis both say one of the biggest problems remaining is getting more handicapped people to use mass transit. “There are no reliable figures," Ellis says. “But we think there are about 20,000 handicapped people in the metro area and only about 200 or 300 are using buses on a regular basis." Auberger, confined to a wheelchair after breaking his neck in an accident ll years ago, complains: “The medical system builds a bubble around handicapped people and makes them think they have to be protected. "That's just not true in most cases. So one of the things we're doing now is educating the handicapped to overcome their fears. We've finally got a bus system that works for us and we want the disabled to use it." Photo by Lyn Alweis: A rather straight looking man [Mel Conrardy] in a white jacket, big mittens, and a motorized wheelchair, wears a slight smile as he rides the bus. Someone in a dark jacket stands beside him, and behind him, further back on the bus, other riders are sitting on the bus seats. Caption reads: A bus seat folds up to anchor Mel Conrardy's wheelchair to the floor. Conrardy commutes to work at the Atlantis Community. - ADAPT (744)
The Disability Rag July/August, 1992 [This article continues on ADAPT 738, 733,728, 724, 748, 743 and finally 737; however the entire text is included here for easier reading. ] Photo by Tom Olin: A policeman holds a wooden barricade while another tries to pull a protester who is lying on the ground by his pants legs backward and out from under the barricade. The protester is holding onto something above his head. On one side a third policeman seems to be coming over and on the other side a man (Frank Lozano) and his guide dog (Frazier) are coming over. Title: On the barricades With ADAPT by Mary Johnson photos by Tom Olin “I am tired of rules and regulations. And them telling me what you have to do. None of them has worked for me as good as being at home. In nursing homes, they put you on sleeping pills to keep you from getting aggravated with what will occur. “You can’t pay —— you don’t have any money to pay an attendant at night, when you’re on SSI. All of these things they’re constantly cutting. I haven’t been in a nursing home for 15 years — and I don’t plan to go.” It's Saturday night in Chicago. Nearly 300 ADAPT members have gathered in a meeting room in Chicago’s Bismarck hotel, getting ready for the group’s May 1992 assault on the Windy City. People are telling their stories. Many are there because there was a nursing home in their past — or they don’t want one in their future. The next day the group will swoop down on the University of Chicago's commencement exercises. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Secretary Louis Sullivan is speaking, and some in the group can't believe their late-breaking good fortune at getting another shot at hassling the Secretary who has steadfastly refused to meet with them to discuss redirecting Medicaid funds to in-home attendant services. A planned Mother's Day March to a graveyard — to symbolize how this nation kills its mothers in nursing homes — is cancelled. “I was never for that dead stuff anyway," ADAPT organizer Mike Auberger says. The week's events are debated. Somebody wants to know why they see police taking photos of them whenever there's an ADAPT action. There's an attorney available for people who get arrested, the group is told; they‘re given his name, as well as ADAPT organizers to contact if they get arrested. “I’m telling you — and it’s the most important thing I'm gonna say." Auberger warns the group. “have your medications with you if you're going to get arrested. Have ‘em labelled. No pill boxes; bottles. Make sure it has your name on it — nobody else's. Make sure there’s no illegal substances on you; no weapons. ‘Cos this is going to follow us down the road.” As it turned out, Chicago was mild compared to Orlando's confrontations last fall, in which nearly all ADAPT activists were thrown in jail — some in solitary confinement — for the week. In Chicago, only 10 people would be cited and fined in Monday’s confrontation at the HHS regional offices in downtown Chicago, and only 4 police-tagged “leaders” arrested the next day at American Medical Association headquarters; all were released at day’s end. Perhaps the national outrage in the wake of the Rodney King beating acquittal in Los Angeles a few weeks before had made Chicago police, considered to be some of the most brutal, cautious. The University of Chicago graduation turns out to be a beautiful Chicago spring day. Police and Secret Service are allowing ADAPT members into the auditorium without any hassle. Later, though, Jim Parker is asked to leave. He protests loudly as police haul him out a side door: “Why am l the only one being asked to leave?” About that time Tim Carver of Tennessee simply rolls off into the men's room, unnoticed, to wait out the sweep. Several ADAPT members unfurl a large FREE OUR PEOPLE banner over the wall below their seats, off in the “handicapped section" where the Secret Service have relegated them. Big burly Secret Service men with their walkie-talkies run over quickly and reach down to pull it up. Bob Kafka and Allen Haines are as determined that they won’t succeed. A kind of arm wrestling match ensues with Kafka and Haines holding firmly to the banner to keep it hanging over the wall where it forms a backdrop to the stage area where Sullivan will be speaking. The Secret Service have the advantage of leverage; they’re taller. One especially burly guy finally wrests the pole with its banner away from them and with a contemptuous jerk, flings it high into the bleachers behind them. “Clear ‘em out," mutters an all-business police captain. Four cops to a chair seems to be the agreed-on method of removal. Paulette Patterson of Chicago is removed this way. Over on the side, Anita Cameron and Jim Parker, back in and out of his wheelchair, and Frank Lozano, minus dog Frazier, are scooting down the steps on a side tier, trying to make it down to where Sullivan will speak, but they're caught and removed, too. “Get as close to the doors as possible,” says Bob Kafka to the other activists who have now been ejected from the back of the building. With police blocking doors. clots of ADAPT move to every entrance. Well, almost every one. Jean Stewart and Eleanor Smith use Stewart's crutches to pound on the metal doors, trying to create a disturbance inside, as the graduation ceremonies begin. Inside, though, the noise is barely audible. Nancy Moulton of Atlanta is sitting quietly on the ground, leaning on a door, with her guide dog Nan beside her. “Get up,” say a blue shirted Chicago cop. Moulton doesn‘t move. Nan rests her head on Moulton’s leg and rolls her eyes up at the cop towering over them. Now there are 4 Chicago cops and one guy who must be from the Secret Service hanging over Moulton and her dog. “If you don't move, we’ll have to grab you. and the dog will attack,” the cop persists. Still Moulton sits. “If you’re concerned about the dog, move!” the cop barks. Moulton gets up, worried that the cops will hurt Nan. While some block doors, others pass out leaflets to latecomers. The chants of “hey hey, ho. ho, nursing homes have got to go!" change to “We want Sullivan!" The police have barricaded the exit with blue sawhorses that read “police line." A pickup truck from the University's facilities management is unloading yellow university police barricades. A lady inside the back of the auditorium, hearing the faint chanting coming from outside, mutters, “they're not making friends." She‘s with the university. The University of Chicago is so large that commencement is held in two shifts; a morning one and an afternoon one. Sullivan has finished speaking and the crowd is emerging from the pavilion. They walk down the long fence of police barricades, while ADAPT chants and hands them leaflets: “Wanted: Sullivan. For crimes against disabled people." Inset picture: Beefy policeman with his cap down over his nose leaning forward. Caption: “If you care about your dog, move!” Article continues: It's lunch. ADAPT always feeds its activists. Today it‘s Burger King. Attendants and other walkies pass out cokes and burgers. Nan, Moulton’s dog, gets some much welcomed ice cubes from the big bag under the tree, put into the little folding plastic water bowl Moulton carries with her. A new crowd is coming to the arena. They, too, get leaflets and chants. Tim Craven has been ejected when police found him inside, but not before he and the other two who had hidden themselves in the press box get off a few good chants in Sullivan’s direction. A reporter for Habilitation, a disability magazine out of Seattle, has marched up to Sullivan, she reports, and asked him the questions ADAPT has so long wanted to ask him. To every single question, she says, he has responded, “It's a very nice day." Most of the students don‘t want to talk to a reporter. They have no comment. Some think that it‘s wrong of ADAPT to spoil their special day. Others think the group has a right to make itself heard — just not here, not now. One woman who has read the flyers says that "they don‘t want to be prisoners in nursing homes." A man, who hasn‘t read one, says he doesn’t know what they're protesting about but he thinks they have a right to do it. His daughter is graduating today —— with a degree in special education. Each ADAPT contingent blocking an entrance has its contingent of cops. The two `groups` joke with each other and pass the time in small talk. It's a lot like a chess game, says Haines; this trying to puzzle out where Sullivan‘s going to exit. Just about the time it occurs to several of the organizers who have been trying to psych out from which exit Sullivan will be spirited away that the one exit that has no guards on it is the parking lot entrance, a police car comes screaming down the street, makes an abrupt U-turn, and, at that moment, Sullivan's car, driven by Secret Service, shoots out of the entrance. Several ADAPT wheelers are on his tail in a flash, but it's too late. Sullivan again escapes— but the point, say the activists, has been well made to the over 10,000 people who have attended. Thousands of flyers have been passed out. PHOTO by Tom Olin: Inside a cavernous arena filled with people, two plain clothes police or Secret Service men have an ADAPT person (Bob Kafka) by the arms and are trying to lift him. He is sitting on the steps of an aisle leaning forward. To their right a young man in a button up shirt and jeans, a graduate, looks down at them. Caption reads: Getting to see Sullivan. Not. ADAPT makes no effort to block the streets surrounding the Pavilion. Monday‘s a different story. By 11am, both State and Adams Streets are blocked. Downtown Chicago is taking the flyers as fast as they’re being passed out. Many of them are surprisingly in agreement with ADAPT’s call for 25% of the current Medicaid money to be redirected to in-home services. One businessman engages Bob Kafka in a long and intense discussion over the merits of attendant services. He has buddies who were in Viemam, he says, and want the same thing Kafka does. He gives Kafka his card. Many other people are giving ADAPT members their cards, too; they are interested in the issue. Nobody, they say, has brought it up before. Certainly not the Chicago Tribune, which, instead of covering the baccalaureate brouhaha, runs a feature story on a college camp-out. “What I‘m looking for is a reasonable atmosphere to address the issues." Delilah Brummet Flaum, HHS’s Region V Director, would have to shout to make herself heard over downtown Chicago traffic and hundreds of milling demonstrators. And she‘s not shouting. She has come down, along with Chester Stroyny. Regional Director of the HealthCare Financing Administration and HCFA official David DuPre. in response to ADAPT demands. They want to meet with “officials”; they’ve blockaded the Region V HHS headquarters and aren‘t letting anyone in or out — unless they're willing to climb and crawl over protesters. About 20 activists have gotten all the way up to the HHS offices on the 15th floor, and have a bunch of police in there with them. It’s lunchtime by the time Flaum, Stroyny and DuPre are trotted out to Karen Tamley, Bob Kafka and Teresa Monroe and the others in the middle of Adams Street. ADAPT wants them to call Sullivan, to make him come back to Chicago and meet with them. Flaum can’t do that. “I am willing to do anything else you want us to do. to do try to get this resolved,” she’s saying. But she wants the group to be "more reasonable." She tells Tamley that she is “well aware" of ADAPT’s concerns, and that “the Bush Administration is working on non-institutional care options." Anna Stonum asks more questions. People in the crowd are starting to yell that they can’t hear. Flaum is telling Kafka that “shutting down a building“ is not the way to get a meeting with Sullivan. Kafka responds that they‘ve sent at least four letters to Sullivan and he's never responded to a single one. “You know as well as I do that the Secretary sets the tone for the discussion,“ Kafka lectures her. Kafka and DuPre engage in a debate about facts and figures. They can't trip Kafka up; he seems to know as much if not more about the issue than these folks do. At times the officials even seem to agree with him. Not, however, when he charges that “nothing the Secretary has said or done" changes anything “because he's in the pocket of the nursing home industry." “We disagree with that," say all three officials simultaneously. “We do favor the de-institutionalization model." “The damn Secretary has not said one thing — ever - has not even said the word ‘attendant services’ publicly," Kafka yells, and swears that ADAPT will continue to hold the building. “This is not being positive," says Flaum. “These are peoples' lives you’re talking about.” Kafka retorts. Photo Inset: The head of Bob Kafka, looking very intense, below the words "The damn Secretary has never even said the word 'attendant services' publicly." Article continues: “You don’t know what it’s like,” Monroe shouts at the officials when Kafka's done. “I want to talk to Sullivan. You get him here. He has no idea. Don't tell me Sullivan knows.” Monroe’s point, which she makes to Flaum, is that the money should go directly to the disabled person “because no person knows better what they need than the disabled person. Let us have our dignity.” She argues with Stroyny over nursing home inspections. Mark Johnson accuses Sullivan of “being in the pocket of the nursing homes.“ And meetings like this, he charges, aren’t worth a thing “unless there’s a commitment." The group, hearing Johnson, takes the cue: “We want a commitment!" One of the workers in the HHS office has come out for lunch and now finds she cannot get back in over the demonstrators. Still, she thinks what they're doing is “positive.” She’s a volunteer in a nursing home herself, she says, “And I know they’re the pits. People who don't frequent them don't know. These people who are walking around here” — she gestures to lunch-hour Chicagoans moving up and down the street-- “they could become victims of nursing homes, too. I look at these people here" —— and now she means ADAPT — “and I know I wouldn’t want to be jailed up in a nursing home." But then, she believes in protesting, she says. “I think protests are fine. I'm in tune with them. I was with Martin Luther King back in the 60s." she says. “I was in jail with Dr. King. I was 14 years old. That was just what you did; you went to jail. Some of our young people don't understand. “This is how to explain it,” she continues, warming to her subject. “These people want to get heard. We couldn’t get heard in Birmingham, either. That‘s why we marched on Washington." She won’t identify herself, though, but will only say she’s a spectator. But she works upstairs in the HHS office, she says. “And they got time to listen to that TV stuff — people come in talking about that, they make a big deal about the stuff they see on TV. And they got these people out here and they don‘t want to pay attention. When I was upstairs, they were callin’ ‘em ‘beasts’ and “vultures.” It is a measure of the erosion of belief in the system that has become the trademark of ADAPT that, when an EMS ambulance pulls up to the door and the word goes out that police are bringing down a man who’s had a heart attack, the thought passes among the group that this is yet another ploy. They think the stretcher rolled into the lobby and up on the elevator may be a ruse to make them move away from the door, which they nonetheless do, not wanting it to be said that they cared not for another disabled person who might be in danger. And when the man is brought down on the stretcher, there is more speculation: wasn’t he one of the officials out here earlier? Did the confrontation and excitement give him a heart attack? Is he faking? Is it really a medical emergency, or just :1 move to get someone out of the building who has an important meeting to attend and doesn't want it stopped by cripples? No one remembers the man in the stretcher more than a few minutes after the ambulance pulls away, lights rotating, into the Chicago traffic. Jane Garza from El Hogar del Nino is with the protesters. blocking a door by leaning against it. She’s part of the protest. she says: disabled herself, though she knows she doesn’t look it. She works in early childhood education. Some of the signs protesters are carrying were made by the children at her center, she says. “It's a way to bring them into it," she points out. The parents of the disabled kids at the center “are all reasonable people,” she says. “So they understand my being at an activity like this." If she gets arrested, she says, she has an understanding with her agency: they will bail her out. She’s been arrested with ADAPT before. she says; that was in Montreal. She’s been with ADAPT protests in Washington — the one to get the ADA passed; and one in St. Louis. “No one wants to see their child in a nursing home. People can really relate to that." She says the group at her door has been talking to passersby all day about the issue. “I was on the verge of going into a nursing home myself, back in ’82.” says this woman who doesn’t look disabled. When she had her aneurism and was in rehabilitation, she says, the Illinois Department of Rehabilitation Services gave her money with which she was able to pay two people — one for the morning, and one for the evening. “I just needed help getting up and then getting to bed. I was so weak. I just needed minimal assistance, somebody there to help me get dressed. But without that program. they would have put me in a nursing home.” Illinois Gov. Jim Edgar’s budget cuts have forced the Department of Rehabilitation Services to extend a freeze on intakes in that program through the end of 1993. and Edgar, Chicago ADAPT charges, is trying to eliminate a yearly cost-of-living adjustment for attendants. "After I got stronger, I was able to manage on my own. But look at how many people are in my shoes!” she says. “I worked; I had money. I was a social worker back then: one who had to apply for public aid just so I could get assistance." Insert picture: A person (possibly Lonnie Smith) with his head to one side and below the words “We want them to see what it’s like for us.” Article continues... The philosophy and tactic of doorblocking: Let people go in and out, if they’re willing to climb over you and your chair to do it. Arrest is not the objective here; inconveniencing people is. “We want them to see what it's like for us.” says one who has engaged in many door blockings. Photo by Tom Olin: A policeman stands in the middle of the street legs braced in a wide stance and arms streched out. He is holding a man with a cane (Gary Bosworth) with one hand and with the other hand and foot trying to hold back a man (Bob Kafka) in a manual wheelchair who is bent forward pushing. Other police officers are standing in the street, a supervisor is watching, as is a TV cameraman. Other protesters are partially visible at the edges of the scene. Chicago police have a black and white checkered band around their hats that is very distinctive. Article continues- Tuesday morning's Chicago Tribune, instead of covering ADAPT's HHS confrontation. reports on stepped-up security measures at the downtown State of Illinois building where. the Tribune reports, in error, ADAPT was "supposed" to be demonstrating Monday. ADAPT, it says, changed its mind. In fact, ADAPT planned to hit state offices on Wednesday. Speculation abounds as to who fed the paper the false information, the effect of which is to make ADAPT look disorganized. It later becomes apparent that state officials have had a hand in it. There is nothing in the Tribune about the people who stopped along State Street and asked questions, about Flaum, about any of it. The Sun-Times carries a photo inside. At the comer of State and Grant, a baby-blue police wrecker, the same blue as the cars, as the barricades, has blocked a curb ramp. ADAPT has blocked four intersections adjacent to the American Medical Association. Wheelchairs are stretched across 16 streets. At the intersection of Wabash and Grand, in the back, Paulette Patterson is hassling the policemen, mouthing off and chasing them with her motorized chair. It seems she is trying to get arrested. The police are being friendly enough. It won't be until noon that things will get rough. The cops will barricade the main entrances to the glass-walled fortress: many ADAPT members will take that as their cue to launch themselves out of their wheelchairs onto the high-curbed stoop around the building, crawling up to bang and hammer on the wooden barricades. A few find satisfaction in pounding on the glass walls. This will happen, though, only after the confrontation — the confrontation that resulted in Jerry Eubanks of Chicago being dropped from his wheelchair: picked up by his neck, it seems to other protesters, who holler for an “Ambulance! Now!”; the confrontation that causes Patterson to roll from her wheelchair and shriek at the top of her lungs, kicking her legs wildly as police try to pick her up. The police back off; when they come at her again, her screams again drive them back. Finally, Patterson is left alone, and, once more in her wheelchair, rolls off to the side, where she admits slyly and with her trademark smile that she enjoys discomfiting police. “They don't wanna mess with me," she says proudly. Suddenly they are all there again, surging at the entrance, trying to get up the high curb. Stephanie Thomas and Diane Coleman and others are wedging themselves in next to the Chicago Transit Authority paratransit vehicles that are a sure sign of arrests: it's the only way police can haul off a wheelchair to the hoosegow. Allen Leegant is diving under a barricade trying to get up to the entrance. Chris Hronis and Arthur Campbell are trying to follow; they are caught by police. Campbell is carried, spread-eagle, by four cops, directly to a CT A van. Cameras are everywhere; TV crews have materialized out of nowhere. Campbell has been arrested. Mike Auberger has been arrested. Campbell and Auberger are each put into his own van. The police have their eye on Mike Ervin. When you catch a snatch of cop-to-cop talk, you learn they're trying to pick off those they figure to be the leaders. “What the cops never understand is why the demonstration continues after they’ve hauled off the folks they think are leaders," says someone who is blocking a street. “They can’t figure out that arresting leaders doesn’t work; that as soon as they arrest someone, somebody else just moves in." Susan Nussbaum, blocking a side door, answers questions about whether the movement will ever see violence. “There’s always the potential for violence," she is saying. “But it would be good if that could be understood in the context of a larger issue. “I am not in favor of getting my head beaten in." At 3:15 the building starts to empty out. ADAPT has managed to block all the exits, so AMA workers and officials alike are subjected to a gauntlet of taunts as they trot, under tight police protection, down the ramp to the alley and across to the parking garage. The taunts seem mostly to be of the “AMA Shame On You” variety. When ADAPT members arrived at AMA headquarters in the morning, they found tables set up with water coolers and cups of refreshing water awaiting them. Later, the AMA‘s Department of Geriatric Health would confirm for a reporter that the AMA had done this so the disabled people wouldn't get overheated and get sick. Many protesters were wary of the water. Some suspected it had been spiked with Valium: others thought it a ploy to get them to have to pee later on, adding to their discomfort and hopefully ending the demonstration early. Much of the water was left untouched. Water was also running through hoses into the sprinkling system of the AMA‘s lawns. This had the added effect of keeping protesters off the grassy knolls fronting the building. Shortly after ADAPT arrived, one demonstrator had parked his chair on the hose while others moved across the area to block doors. Later, the water was simply turned off. Insert picture: A head and shoulders picture of a protester chanting, with the words "AMA: Shame on you!" "People are dying shame on you!" Article continues- The AMA’s flak, Arnold Collins, was standing around with the TV and radio reporters most of the day. The AMA had issued a statement insisting it “supports the home care objectives of ADAPT." Dr. Joanne Schwartzberg, Director of the AMA's Department of Geriatric Health, said in the news release that a meeting the previous Thursday with ADAPT had been “productive” and that the two `groups` had “considerable common ground.” Campbell, who attended the meeting, had a different analysis. He said he believed Schwartzberg truly had no understanding what ADAPT wanted; that some of their ideas had been totally inconceivable to her. Schwartzberg said ADAPT was the first group she had ever met with and felt “hostility.” “It was a great shock," she said. “I always thought of myself as being a great advocate. But I wasn’t an advocate enough for them." Schwartzberg said that ADAPT didn’t understand that there were “really frail people in nursing homes — a kind of frailty that these disabled don’t have. “I was really scared that the demonstrators might get harmed, the way they throw themselves out of their chairs.” she went on. “They’re very courageous; I think they're a little reckless. Luckily, nobody’s gotten seriously hurt." “Do you think she really believes the things she says, or do you think it’s just a pose?” a filmmaker wondered. The AMA had issued “a guideline for medical management of homecare patients," she said, and they were putting on 8 seminars for doctors “in managing home care.” She knew ADAPT wanted AMA members to divest themselves of their financial interest in nursing homes and cut nursing home admissions. But the AMA couldn‘t do that, she explained patiently. “We are a voluntary body. not a regulatory body." “They couldn't understand why we couldn‘t do more." she said. The Chicago Tribune was still concerned about the State of lllinois building. Every day Tribune stories had chronicled the increasing security at the site. On Tuesday, Paulette Patterson and another disabled woman filed suit in U.S. District Court alleging denial of access due to increased security. Though a temporary restraining order was not granted, Patterson’s attorney, Matthew Cohen, said filing the suit had had the desired effect. The Tribune covered the suit. Photos by Tom Olin: 1) Two protesters (Spitfire and Jimmi Schrode) in the march raise the power fist to woman leaning out of a second floor window yelling and giving them the thumbs up. Below on the sidewalk most people are just walking by but one older man looks on. Spitfire is wearing her combat helmet. 2) A line of ADAPT protesters face a set of barricades on the other side of which are a line of policemen holding the barricades with both hands. Midway down the line of protesters, a man in a wheelchair (Danny Saenz) is turned toward the camera and another protester (Chris Hronis). 3) Close up of a man in a wheelchair (Rene Luna) who sits in front of an almost life sized portrait of IL Governor Edgar. Rene is holding a poster that reads "nursing home industry owns Edgar." Article continues- Finally, on Wednesday, ADAPT obliged the Tribune and state officials by staging a protest at the building, drawing attention to stale policies that were cutting people off from attendant services in Illinois. On Thursday. the Tribune ran a long story on ADAPT. Calling them "a group of vociferous activists savvy in street action." It quoted a miffed Chicago official who refused to be named saying that "one of the strongest points in their civil disobedience is making themselves look as pathetic as possible.“ “The group's history is rife with attention-grabbing acts of protest." said the Tribune. which compared them to ACT-UP and Earth First! protest `groups`. "Though some may question their tactics. none can doubt they have impact.“ said the Tribune. the end - ADAPT (717)
Chicago Tribune, Thursday May 14, 1992 [This article continues in ADAPT 712 but the entire text has been included here for easier reading.] Photo by Eduardo Contreras: A man (Randy Horton) in a denim jacket kneels on the bottom step of an escalator with his arms spread from one handrail to the other. Someone stands on the escalator facing him. Behind him are a group of other protesters in wheelchairs filling the area. The group includes: Steve Verriden, San Antonio Funtes, Chris Hronis and others. Caption reads: Randy Horton (on knees) blocks John Meagher on a State of Illinois Center escalator. Title: Disabled protesters take hard line by Christine Hawes and Rob Kawath Rolling his wheelchair around the cavernous State of Illinois Center, shouting for his rights, Ken Heard recalled how he used to spend his days in a Syracuse, N.Y., nursing home where doctors controlled his life. They would tell him when he could get up in the morning, when he could go to sleep, what he could eat. They would feed him pills, but they wouldn’t tell him what they were for. It was as if he had no mind of his own. “l saw people tied down in their beds, said Heard, who has severe cerebral palsy. "And I saw people die in there." It took some time, a marriage that got him out of the nursing home and a raging desire for independence, but today Heard has regained the power to think for himself. He now earns his own income, rents and fumishes his own apartment and even takes vacations in Las Vegas. His joumey to self-sufficiency began when he heard about an activist group now called American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today. On Wednesday, about 200 ADAPT protesters in wheelchairs disrupted operations at the State of Illinois Center, 100 W. Randolph St., blocking exits and occasionally fighting with building patrons and workers as police stood by, arresting no one. Elaborate security measures the state had put in place Monday to keep the 16-floor, 3,000-employee building functioning broke down while state and Chicago police squabbled over who was responsible for arresting protesters deemed to have gone too far. But the scene of disabled men and women dragging themselves up escalators, surging into the building lobby and clutching the legs of people trying to walk past is just another picture in the well-publicized story of a group of vociferous activists savvy in street action. “One of the strongest points of their civil disobedience is making themselves look as pathetic as possible,” said one Chicago-area official at an agency that has been a target of ADAPT. The official, who asked that his name be withheld, said, “They are excellent media users, and they are very successful at putting spotlights on issues that most people probably wouldn’t normally pay attention to.” ADAPT has taken its dedication to a fever pitch, too fevered for some, and like many new protest `groups`—including the AIDS Coalition To Unleash Power (ACT -UP) for gay rights, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) for animal rights and Earth First for the ecology—is using dramatic, sensational tactics for their cause, to allow any nursing home residents the ability to live on their own. And though some may question their efforts, none can doubt they have impact. One woman who said she was grabbed, tripped and bitten during Wednesday’s melee confessed a few hours later, “I can’t help but feel guilty.” During Heard’s 10-year stay in the nursing home, he met some ADAPT members from Denver and listened to them tell of how they took sledgehammers to Denver's street curbs as a way of objecting to inaccessible sidewalks. Now Heard is a political organizer for ADAPT, in town with 350 other protesters. And though members are no longer taking sledgehammers to cement, they are steering wheelchairs into intersections, chaining themselves to buildings and crawling along dirty streets to get over curbs too high for wheelchairs. For the past two years, ADAPT has been staging demonstrations every six months in support of reallocating one-fourth of the country’s Medicaid funds that now go to nursing homes to in-home health care, and to make it easier for disabled people like Heard to escape their “prisons.” This week in Chicago, protests have played out at the quarters of everyone ADAPT perceives as the health-care power brokers: the federal Department of Health and Human Services, the American Medical Association and the offices of Gov. Jim Edgar. ADAPT claims that having personal, in-home attendants for the disabled costs $900 a month less in state funds than keeping them in nursing homes and other institutions. Illinois officials say the difference is only $600. But aside from financial concerns, ADAPT members say they’re fighting against inhumane restraint and abuse in nursing homes. Their strategy is to make the able-bodied feel as uncomfortable and limited as they themselves do—and to grab as much media time as possible. Television cameras were there Wednesday when bands of wheelchair users mobbed workers trying to use an escalator in the State of Illinois Center. And they were there Tuesday when protesters crawled out of their wheelchairs, across Grand Avenue and over foot-high curbs outside of the American Medical Association’s national headquarters. “This makes us visible," said Jean Stewart, a 42-year-old novelist from New York, who has used a wheelchair since she lost her hip muscle because of a tumor about 17 years ago. “And it enables us to get our message across. It’s not a publicity stunt, it’s education.” The group’s history is rife with attention-grabbing acts of protest after talks with officials were unsuccessful and full of what they feel is noteworthy success. The end result of the Denver protests, said Wade Blank, a founding member of the group, was one of the most accessible cities for disabled people in this country. Three years ago, a handful of ADAPT members were arrested for blocking a Chicago Transit Authority bus with their motorized wheelchairs. But two results of those efforts, they feel, were CTA purchase of buses with wheelchair lifts and even the passage of the federal Americans with Disabilities Act. ADAPT members say they are disrupting business as usual because they are shut out of offices where politicians and association presidents could be sitting down to discuss the issue. And they are trapping members of the public to demonstrate how they feel trapped and restrained. “For so long the issues surrounding disability have remained invisible,” said Stephanie Thomas, who lost her ability to walk when she was run over by a tractor 17 years ago. “So we have to do some extraordinary things to make people pay attention.” Wednesday’s protest, which came after U.S. District Judge Milton Shadur refused to order a lessening of security measures at the state’s Chicago headquarters, left police and Department of Central Management Services security officers snapping only at each other, even after the protest turned ugly. “I have to get to an appointment!" yelled one middle-age man as he wrestled on the ground with two protesters who had grabbed his legs and, in the process, had been pulled out of their wheelchairs. “This is what it feels like to be trapped in a nursing home!” yelled one protester. The man finally struggled free and hustled out of the building while Chicago and Central Management Services police watched from only a few feet away. “We’re sorely disappointed with the Chicago Police Department,” said Central Management Services Director Stephen Schnorf. “Certainly they provided better protection to the other buildings where there were protests this week.” But Chicago Police Cmdr. Michael Malone said the state was in control and his officers were just there to back them up. He said the state was misrepresenting the agreement between the two departments. And all that consternation was caused by a group that claims to be loosely organized and barely funded ADAPT, which has about 5,000 members nationwide, has very little formal correspondence, aside from a newspaper called Incitement and a rare memo, Blank said members keep in touch through word of mouth more than anything, and most of them support their travels through small fundraisers. But though the group says most of its day-to-day procedures are hardly sophisticated, ADAPT leaders are extremely skilled in using the media, say some who have watched the group’s protests first-hand. Sonya Snyder, public relations director at a Florida hotel where ADAPT demonstrated against the American Health Care Association last October, said the protesters only became rambunctious when television cameras appeared. “For most of the time, the police and the protesters would share sandwiches,” Snyder said. “But when the media came, down went the sandwiches and up went the protest.” And Janice Wolfe, a spokeswoman for the health care association, said the group’s efforts are “frustrating and misdirected. Their efforts could be better spent on individuals who are in power to do something.” ADAPT members view their protests as grand displays of strength, not pitiful appeals. They speak of their demonstration plans as though they are plotting battle strategy, using words like “identified enemy,” “privileged information” and "top secret." They pattern their protests after the civil rights demonstrations of the 1960s and compare themselves to the black leaders of that era “This is just like Martin Luther King,” ADAPT member Bernard Baker from Atlanta “We’re fired up, and we can’t take it anymore." - ADAPT (367)
San Francisco Examiner 10/1/87 Photo by Examiner/Gordon Stone: The frame of the picture is filled with people in wheelchairs, and people standing. All are protesters and in the center is a woman wearing glasses raises her hand in a power fist with a piece of paper in it, above her head. In front of him is a woman laying back in her chair (Laurie ___ from Chicago). Everyone is facing forward. Caption reads: CAROL RAUGUST, WITH FLYER, IS AMONG WHEELCHAIR ACTIVISTS They have a quarrel with public transit officials, convening in S.F. Title: Handicapped activists get day in court By John D. O'Connor OF THE EXAMINER STAFF The Hall of Justice resounded with victory whoops and the whirl of motorized wheelchairs as 43 'handicapped activists arrested for blockading the Powell Street cable car line got their day in court. Protesters used their arraignment Wednesday before Municipal Court Judge Philip Moscone as a platform for a new attack against the American Public Transit Association, which they say has not done enough to provide the handicapped with access to public transit. Moscone allowed designated speakers to address the court after each group of blockaders entered no contest pleas to charges of obstructing a public thoroughfare. The $50 fine the charge carried was dropped as Moscone credited the night the 43 demonstrator spent in jail as "time served." A second charge of failing to disperse was dropped "in the interest of justice," according to Deputy District Attorney Randall Knox. Jane Jackson, who spoke on behalf the first group of 14 wheelchair-bound demonstrators arraigned Wednesday, seized the opportunity to charge APTA with denying handicapped citizens of their civil rights. "It is for this reason that we believe Jack Gilstrap (APTA executive Ace president) should be asked to resign or should be forced to resign," Jackson said. "APTA is not acting in good faith." More than 15,000 public transit officials from around North America attended the four-day convention. Officials of the transit group have said they feel the access question should be handled on a local level. Jackson also said the coalition of handicapped-rights groups, which captured national media attention with four days of protests and blockades across the city, was pulling out of a scheduled meeting with APTA officials Thursday. "It's the only move left open to us," Jackson said later while members of the September Alliance for Accessible Transit and American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation cheered her and the other blockaders as they exited the courtroom. About 75 wheelchair-bound protesters lined the hallway outside the courtroom, chanting and clapping in approval and support as each group of blockaders were arraigned and allowed to leave. "They're our heroes," said Connie Arnold of San Rafael. "They're standing up for us." During the arraignments, police, sheriff's and emergency medical personnel stood by as defendants were wheeled in or entered the courtroom under their own power. Jennifer Keelan, a 6-year-old girl from Tempe, Ariz., whose bouncy enthusiasm and apparent unconcern over her handicap captivated the press and boosted the resolve of protesters, was wheeled in by a sheriff's deputy and sat writing her name over and over again in a small notebook. Unlike the group's earlier demonstrations, Wednesday's action was peaceful and there were no arrests. Protesters had staged noisy and sometimes violent demonstrations outside the APIA convention at Moscone Center Monday and on the steps of City Hall Sunday night. Handicapped-rights group organizers said Wednesday was their last day in The City as the APTA convention at Moscone Center ended a four-day conference and transit officials left town. But protesters declared the string of rallies and blockades a success. "We made our point," said Marilyn Golden of Oakland. "Now maybe they will listen." - ADAPT (618)
November 1992 Access USA News Page 5 Atlantis leads to ADAPT leads to independence Cathy Seabaugh, Staff Writer DENVER,CO-Their offices are relatively small compared to the massive projects the American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today organization tackles. An inconspicuous location in south central Denver serves as national headquarters for the 29 states who have ADAPT chapters. This Colorado town is a gold mine for members of the disabled community, not so much for its accessibility and attitudes, but for the brainstem which this office at 12 Broadway has become. ADAPT representatives throughout the United States act as nerve endings, sending vital messages to the Denver office so it can operate efficiently and effectively. Effectiveness: a term well defined by ADAPT members. ADAPT was conceived and delivered by staff and volunteers of Atlantis Community, founded in 1975 by former nursing home employee Wade Blank and Mike Auberger, a quadriplegic from a bobsledding accident in 1971. Atlantis emerged so that individuals, even those who are severely, multiply-disabled, have the option to live outside an institution. ln its first l5 years, Atlantis was able to successfully transition more than 400 disabled adults from “sheltered settings" to more independent living standards. As an admirable offspring of Atlantis, ADAPT set its own agenda in June 1983 and embarked on an action-packed mission to make public transportation accessible to everyone. American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit set out to train, develop and empower disabled activists so they could effectively battle for that accessibility. Eighteen members of the Atlantis community had taken the first strides toward accessible public transportation in Denver when they gathered on July 5&6, 1978, to block city buses at Broadway and Colfax across from the state capitol. ‘Then in 1982, after beating up the board enough," said Auberger, one of the 18, "they decided they'd buy all lift-equipped buses." Once ADAPT formed the next year, the foundation was in place. With Denver as a model, activists began chipping away at other cities’ granite-like, antiquated public transportation systems. "(Former President Jimmy) Carter appointed Brock Adams in 1976 and Adams set a federal mandate that all new buses bought with federal money had to have (wheelchair) lifts,” Auberger said. "Under the Reagan administration, APTA (American Public Transit Association) sued (to avoid the lift requirements) and won. "APTA was having its national convention in Denver in October 1983 and about 20 people from across the country showed up to join about 22 people from Denver. We sent notice to (APTA) that their convention would not go uninterrupted if they did not meet with us. They went to the mayor, but he said he wouldn't protect them unless they agreed to meet with us.” ADAPT met APTA there. They would meet many more times. "We decided wherever they had a convention, we would go,” Auberger said. "It moved us around to communities where they'd never been exposed to the issues. People all of a sudden became aware. "If we're talking about the issues, people are going to form an opinion. You polarize people. Whether they support you or not is not the point. If there's not an opinion there, you can't change it." The deep roots, pockets or whatever of APTA were a long-time barrier for ADAPT. But as the Americans with Disabilities Act cemented and included regulations for public transportation, APTA’s resistance to ADAPT's demands weakened until the federal govemment finally made ADA the law. With that priceless piece of legislation signed and inducted into the pages of history, ADAPT was ready for its next mission. "What we said at that point to members was to put out feelers in your communities,” Auberger said. "What we found was personal assistants was the biggest issue of concern.” Retaining the ADAPT acronym, the group devised new plans to force change in the long-term health care system of the United States. “At least 60 percent of ADAPT members have (resided) in nursing homes at one time or another,” Auberger said, "The other 40 percent have spent their lives trying to avoid going into one.” Although ADAPT and Atlantis are neither to lose its identity in the other, they are a family unit and work together toward change. Atlantis is a certified home health care agency, making 53,000 visits each year in Denver and Colorado Springs, serving approximately 85 clients. “That's 365 days a year, whether there's three feet of snow on the ground or it's 105 degrees," Auberger said. “We have a 24-hours-a-day emergency backup system that works probably 98 percent of the time." One Atlantis client is a C2 quadriplegic who is on a ventilator nonstop. Yet he is allowed to live in his own home with the help of Atlantis personal attendants. "That shows you our capabilities,” Auberger said. ”We can provide 24-hour care for about $7,500 a year. A nursing home would do it for $20,000.” ADAPT’s scrapbook for the past two years includes protests in almost countless cities throughout the country. Wherever Dr. Louis Sullivan, Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, made a speech or appearance, ADAPT added itself to the invitation list. The protests usually involved arrests, which is a proven effective tool for drawing media coverage. Radical activity, some say. "We really give the middle-of-the-road disabled community members the power to make change," Auberger said. "We make them look sane. “It's like in Illinois, Gov. Edgar didn't have a problem meeting with the straight group who went to Springfield because they were sane. lf he dealt with our radical group, he'd have to deal with all radical groups. We really give (middle-of-the-road community members) a platform." ADAPT picks on Sullivan because, they say, he can initiate change. They argue that Sullivan's signature is all that's necessary to require the states receiving Medicaid to provide personal assistants. Just more than half the states provide such funding and many; if not all, of those programs are underfunded, restricted and far short of meeting the demand. ADAPT seeks to convince Health and Human Services - Sullivan - to take one-third of the $15 billion Medicaid dollars and commit it to home-based, consumer-controlled services. "Every state that buys into Medicaid has to fund nursing homes,” Auberger said, explaining how the system currently works. Sixty-five percent of all money paid to nursing homes is Medicaid funds. "States have little play in what they can do with Medicaid.” Nursing homes use what's called a “cold bed rate" which refers to the empty beds in their institutions that are not producing income. Lobbyists for the nursing home industry are looking at these rates and profit margins, not at long-term care that allows individuals to retain their independence. "We’ve become a valuable commodity,” Auberger said. "It's a normal mindset to put someone in a nursing home. This is so ingrained in our society. There's currently no alternative, and most people aren't able to envision the type of care we're talking about." Auberger encourages every person he can to write letters to members of Congress, senators and other politicians who can have an impact on the future of people with disabilities. "When you do that, you raise a level of consciousness,” he said. "You don't have to mention (the numbers), just the concept. "The logic is the problem. When parents are doing (personal attendant care), for free, it doesn't have to be skilled. When Medicaid pays for that same care, a nurse has to do it.” Statistics provided by the American Health Care Association show the average lifespan on an individual in a nursing home is 21 months. "You can't convince me there's quality care in a nursing home," Auberger said. "We (at Atlantis) are non-medical personal attendants. When the staff goes into a home, the person in that home is the boss. We do things the way they want us to do them. "People don't have to give up their power to able-bodied people. But it's okay to share the power." Although many members of the disabled community have made endorsements this election year, ADAPT chooses to remain rather neutral - for a change. "Don't pick a side,” Auberger said. "As soon as you pick a side and that side loses, you now have an enemy on the other side. That's been real effective tor us. We'll rate candidates on disability issues, but we won't endorse anyone. "If there's a disability issue in Colorado, legislators call here, the media calls here. We're a powerful entity in this state. As hundreds of ADAPT activists confronted the annual conference of the nursing home industry in San Francisco October 19-21, the power of this entity spread toward the Pacific. Persons interested in more information about ADAPT can call Auberger or Wade Blank at (303) 733-9324 (voice and TDD). INSERT AT CENTER OF PAGE: Across the top in bold letters the word "ATLANTIS" and below that ADAPT's new Free Our People logo, the wheelchair access symbol with it's arms raised above its head breaking chains that are bound to it's wrists. Above this figure, in a semi-circular pattern the words "Free Our People" and below, also in a semi-circular pattern, "ADAPT" - ADAPT (414)
St. Louis Post Dispatch (Editorial Page), Monday May 16, 1988,Vol. 110, No. 137 PHOTO 1 by Jerry Naunheim Jr/Post-Dispatch: Three plain clothes police men in sports jackets surround a slight man in a wheelchair with grey hair in a pony tail (Arthur Campbell). He wears an ADAPT shirt with the no steps logo and a headband he created for the St Louis action. He has a resigned look on his face and his hands are clasped in front of his chest. One officer is trying to drive his wheelchair using the joy stick, and all three are holding onto the chair. Two have orange squares taped to their sleeves. Behind them on the left side of the photo stands Rev. Willie Smith of Chicago, wearing a white hat and white shirt. Between the police officers you can see part of someone else in a wheelchair and they have a poster about "taxation without..." Through the group on the other side of the picture you can see the legs of someone else in a wheelchair and a uniformed officer looking down on that person. caption: St. Louis police officers pushing Arthur Campbell, of Louisville, Ky., toward a paddy wagon in front of the Omni International Hotel on Market Street. Campbell was one of 41 disabled people arrested during a protest Sunday. PHOTO 2 by Jerry Naunheim Jr/Post-Dispatch: A long line of ADAPT folks mostly in red ADAPT shirts and mostly in wheelchairs with some folks pushing or walking along to the side. The line snakes from the bottom right of the picture to the mid left side and back to thte top right side. Over 30 people are in sight. Third from the front is a woman lying in her chair (Beverly Furnice), behind her is Joe Carle, behind him George Roberts rolls beside Lori Eastwood. Behind them is Chicago ADAPT's Rene Luna, then ET (Ernest Taylor), the Bernard Baker. Three women behind is Stephanie Thomas, then someone standing then Clayton Jones has his hand in the air, then Tim Baker, and many others. caption: Members of the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit - ADAPT - rolling down Market Street outside Union Station during a protest Sunday. Title: Disabled Arrested At Omni By Robert Manor (Post Dispatch Staff) Forty-one protesters in wheel-chairs were arrested at Union Station on Sunday as they demonstrated for equal access to public transportation. The demonstration was non-violent, and there were no reports of injuries or of anyone resisting arrest. The protesters were booked by police on charges of trespassing and were taken to the City Workhouse in vans and buses equipped with lifts to accommodate wheelchairs. Members of a group called the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit, ADAPT for short, demonstrated against the American Public Transit Association, which is holding a convention at the Omni Hotel in Union Station. The association, which represents bus operators, op-poses efforts to require that buses be equipped with wheelchair lifts. ADAPT has repeatedly carried out civil disobedience at meetings of the association, and police were prepared. Scores of officers in uniform and plainclothes officers were waiting as about 150 people in wheelchairs and their able-bodied supporters marched from The Arch, up Market Street and into Union Station shortly after 1 p.m. They blocked some entrances and hallways but were unable to close the hotel. Many chanted and called on the public for support. St. Louis police Capt. Clarence Harmon spoke over a bullhorn and tried to order the demonstrators to disperse. But as he tried to speak, the demonstrators sounded portable air horns, drowning him out. "I'll tell each one individually," Harmon said to an aide. He walked from wheelchair to wheelchair telling each person, "I am Capt. Harmon from the police department. You are subject to arrest if you don't leave. Many did leave, but others remained in place, their wheelchairs side by side. Among them was Barbara Toomer, who sat blocking the main entrance to the hotel. "I'm not going to move," Toomer said, as a van driven by a police officer pulled up to the curb in front of See PROTEST, Page 9 [we don't have the rest of this article]