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Denver Post, Photo by John Sunderland: Ten people in wheelchairs [including, left to right, George Roberts, Les Hubbard, Bob Conrad and Debbie Tracy?] sit in the street in two rows along a curb. George and Les are hammering the curb with sledgehammers as the others watch. The woman to the far right holds a sign that says "We [unreadable] curb cuts, and has a stick figure picture of a woman in a wheelchair. in the background on the left side you can see part of someone else in a chair with a hammer. Cation reads: George Roberts, left, and Les Hubbard Bludgeon a Curb in Protest. Other members of the Atlantis Community surround them in a demonstration against obstacles to their mobility. [Headline] Atlantis Members Bludgeon Curb in Protest By Bill Scanlon, Special to the Denver Post An 8-inch curb is not much of an obstacle to most pedestrians. But when you are in a wheelchair and you’ve counted 44,000 of them and each one of them is an obstacle to your movement and your freedom, that 8-inch curb can become a symbol of intense frustration. Two handicapped Denverites bludgeoned such a curb with 20-pound sledgehammers Monday afternoon to show their anger at the mayor's office for what they described as a failure to make the sidewalks and streets of Denver safe and accessible to the disabled community. THE DEMONSTRATION at the corner of East Colfax Avenue and Colorado Boulevard was put together by the Atlantis Community, an organization of handicapped people. According to a press release, the group staged the protest to “express our anger and frustration at the 44,000 curbs in Denver which prevent us from using the sidewalks and crossing the streets." A crowd of about 30 people watched and cheered as a like number of handicapped people wheeled their chairs westward down the sidewalk in front of National Jewish Hospital. When they reached a curb that had been cut to provide automobiles access they crossed Colfax Avenue. Then they proceeded eastward along the Colfax Avenue sidewalk until they reached the Conoco service station at the corner. There was a rounded curb there, so the protesters wheeled their chairs across Colfax. They were forced to edge into Colorado Boulevard traffic to go around the concrete median. At the corner they found themselves up against an 8-inch curb, symbolic of thousands of others that had stirred the protest. THERE, LES HUBBARD and George Roberts began wielding their sledgehammers. Amid cheers of “Down with the curbs," they succeeded in inflicting slight damage to the concrete slab. Drivers stopping at the corner traffic light were mostly curious, often supportive, but also a little wary about hitting the wheelchairs. The chairs impeded but did not stop traffic at the busy intersection. During a break from hammering, Hubbard said, “We have the right to go places like anyone else, but we can't. I'd like to put (Mayor Bill) McNichols in a wheelchair tor about a month." Two years ago Atlantis staged a protest against the Regional Transportation District for failing to provide adequate means for disabled people to ride the bus. Bob Conrad, co-administrator of Atlantis, said the group was not protesting RTD this time. By 1982, RTD expects to make its bus system the nation's first that is fully accessible to the physically handicapped. CONRAD SAID the city has been “pretty responsive" in the downtown area to the needs of handicapped people, but it has not responded to particular curb problems elsewhere. He said, “The city only cuts curbs that have been damaged" and added that the city budget no longer provides money for cutting undamaged curbs at particular problem areas. Edward Ellerbrock, a spokesman for Denver's Traffic Engineering Department, said there has been less money budgeted for building wheelchair ramps the past two years only because the demand has been less. He said his department met with Atlantis officials less than a week ago for "some brainstorming." He said both sides agreed that Atlantis would start identifying specific spots where ramps were needed and the Traffic Engineering Department would respond to them within the limits of its budget. Ellerbrock said his department is requesting $100,000 to cut curbs and build wheelchair ramps. He added that there is “no guarantee we're going to get it," so for publicity's sake the protest might have had some merit. CONRAD SAID that for a wheelchair person “one curb is just as bad as a flight of stairs." He said handicapped people usually have to wait in their chairs at an intersection until some people come along to help them up the curb. “Unless you're really trained at doing it he said, “you can dump the person out while trying to lift him." Hubbard said he has been hit four times by automobiles “because of these curbs. Once I had to have back surgery." He said he wanted to hammer the curb “just enough to get the message across." After about a half-hour of hammering, cheering, chanting and impeding of traffic, a Denver police car arrived and the group was told to clear the intersection or the protesters would be ticketed. The group agreed to move, apparently believing the point had been made. Denver Police Sgt. Richard Nelsen later said, "They got the publicity they wanted. They're happy. I'm happy it's all over.
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June 12, 1990 - Guardian. 5 Disabled 'ecstatic' as rights act clears House By DIANE COLEMAN The Americans with Disabilities Act, considered by many to be the most sweeping civil rights legislation since the 1964 Civil Rights Act, easily cleared the House of Representatives May 22. It is expected to reach the president‘s desk by July 4. The act prohibits discrimination based on disability in public accommodations, employment, transportation and telecommunications. It is intended to address "rampant, daily discrimination in every sphere of American life,“ Rep. Pat Schroeder, D-Colo., told her colleagues on the House floor. “Mentally retarded persons are kept out of restaurants. Persons with cerebral palsy are turned away from theaters. . . . Employers cite fears of hiring disabled persons because their customers will feel uncomfortable or even repulsed,” Schroeder added. Despite strong opposition from private business and transportation lobbies, chief among them the National Federation of Independent Businesses and Greyhound Lines, Inc. , the Americans With Disabilities Act achieved bipartisan support in both houses of Congress. The House vote was 403-29. Under pressure from the NFIB and the National Restaurant Association, the House version of the bill was amended at the last minute to allow employers to remove people with HIV infection from food handling positions. Sponsored by Rep. Jim Chapman, the amendment passed narrowly, although the Texas Democrat conceded there is no “evidence that‘AIDS can be transferred in the process of handling food.” Tom Sheridan of AIDS Action, representing 500 community-based service organizations, predicted that the Chapman amendment would go down to defeat in the House-Senate conference committee. “It’s a horrible amendment for all people with disabilities because . . . it begins to codify the fact that irrational fear is protected by the law,” he said. Nonetheless at press time Senate conferees had agreed to include the restrictions. “Cheers and tears” filled the House gallery at the moment of the ADA's long-awaited passage, according to Tennessee disabled activist Michael Gibson, “but we all know that the bill is only a first step. Several agencies will be writing key regulations which offer innumerable opportunities to weaken the effect of this legislation,” Gibson said. SOME DELAYS, FEW LOSSES While many activists feared the House would water down the Senate version of the bill, Marilyn Golden of the Disability Rights Education and Defense Fund said that the ADA “has not been weakened anywhere near the extent that much legislation is. " According to Golden, who has worked intensively for the bill's passage over the last two years, various timetables and phase-in provisions were adopted to avoid other forms of compromise. The ADA’s protections against employment discrimination, which parallel those applied to federally funded entities since 1973, do not go into effect for two years. Prohibitions against discrimination in public accommodations, such as theaters and restaurants, will require accessibility in facilities “construct[ed] . . . for first occupancy no later than 30 months after the date of enactment." Telephone companies will have three years to put in place a relay service for deaf people and others who depend on non-voice telecommunication. A requirement that all new public buses be lift-equipped will take effect in only 30 days. Many attribute this to seven years of non-violent civil disobedience by the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit. Greyhound, a private carrier, was given six years to begin replacing its retired buses with accessible ones. Activists also waged a last-minute battle over employment discrimination remedies. Recently proposed legislation would add damages to the relief available to discrimination victims under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. In the face of this, Golden said. the Bush administration tried “to renege on its agreement for parallelism” between the ADA and the 1964 act. It backed an amendment that would have kept remedies for disability-based discrimination at current levels if and when discrimination remedies are increased for other minority groups and women. The amendment was narrowly defeated just prior to the final vote on the bill itself. Overall, Golden said. “We're ecstatic." The ADA “will hopefully begin to convey to the American public. left, center and right (because in some ways I don't think the consciousness of the left is any better), that disability is not a personal issue, that there’s a systematic oppression of people with disabilities. . . . Even Congress has faced the fact of the systematic discrimination. " PHOTO (by Tom Olin): A closer view of a mass of marchers coming around a huge tree on a broad sidewalk leading up to the Capitol. Stephanie Thomas, Frank Lozano, Jennifer Keelan and others lead the march which is 12 across in some places and scattered in others. The ADAPT flag (an American Flag with the stars arranged in the wheelchair symbol instead of in rows) flies over the crowd from a few rows back. Some people are in suits and ties, some in T-shirts. Some are in wheelchairs, some carry cameras; children to older folks are in the mix. Caption reads: Seven years of nonviolent civil disobedience by the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit has been credited for the requirement that all new buses be lift-equipped. Above, ADAPT march on U.S. Capitol.
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Denver News [Headline] Handicapped protest curbs PHOTO by Steve Groer, News photo: A slim young African American man [George Roberts] in a wheelchair looks down intently as the sledgehammer he is swinging hits the curb. Beside him another man in a wheelchair [Les Hubbard] holds another sledgehammer in left hand, while holding his right arm over his had, in almost a fencing pose. Behind them sits a third man, also in a wheelchair. Caption reads: George Roberts, right, and Les Hubbard swing hammers in effort to level curb at southwest corner of East Colfax Avenue and Colorado Boulevard [Headline] 'Put McNichols in a wheelchair' By Jane Hulse Les Hubbard has been hit by cars four times as he tried to maneuver his wheelchair over impeding curbs to cross Denver streets. Hubbard, a handicapped resident of Atlantis Community lnc., underwent painful back surgery as a result of one such mishap. “That’s why I've got this hammer," he said Monday, just before he took a sledgehammer to a curb at Colorado Boulevard and East Colfax Avenue. He was one of about 50 wheelchair bound Atlantis residents who destroyed the curb to protest the city’s discontinuation of a program to eliminate hindering curbs and replace them with ramps. Hubbard and George Roberts, another Atlantis resident, chipped away at the curb while others in wheelchairs gathered in the street to cheer. “Down with curbs!" chanted the group, as traffic inched its way around the protesters and spectators. Some protesters held signs that read “We demand curb cuts," “Come on Denver, level with us — cut curbs now," and “Make Denver accessible." The curb turned out to be much stronger than the entourage expected. Hubbard and Roberts chipped away at it, leaving a small mound of crumbled concrete in the street. “They build tough curbs," exclaimed Hubbard, sweating in the 90-degree heat. "This is just enough to get the message across to make the sidewalks accessible,“ he said. “I'd like to take (Mayor William) McNichols and put him in a wheelchair for one month. It ain't easy. It looks easy because we're good at it." He said he rolls his wheelchair down a driveway near an intersection, rather than jumping the curb. Then he must maneuver the chair along the street, trying to avoid traffic as he crosses the intersection. The wheelchair-bound men and women began their protest with a single-file, westward march along East Colfax Avenue. They rolled that way for a block, then crossed the busy street and headed back to Colorado Boulevard. Traffic came to a halt. The protest ended peacefully when Denver police arrived, ordered the hammering stopped and ushered the protesters out of the road. The participants had acknowledged in advance that they might be arrested for civil disobedience. No arrests took place. A few years ago, the city undertook to remove impeding curbs and replace them with ramps. Many such ramps were installed around the city, each put in at the request of disabled citizens who found certain curbs a barrier when the went to work or did their shopping, according to Mary Penland, an administrator for Atlantis. “There are no funds for the program this year,” she said, echoing the city's response to recent requests for new ramps. "We want the program re-established," she said. Ed Ellerbrock, chief design engineer for the city's Traffic Engineering Division, said he was surprised by the demonstration. He said he and other city officials met with Atlantis residents last Wednesday about the curb issue and the meeting ended on a friendly note. He said he'd told the residents then that he would request $100,000 in next year's budget to reinstitute the program, he said, he had planned $50,000, but he upped the amount at their insistence. Ellerbrock said the program was discontinued in 1978 because requests for curb ramps had slacked off. He has had 12 requests since then. With each ramp pegged at a cost of $1,500, Ellerbrock said, he has been unable to fulfill the request with money from other departments.
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Rocky Mountain News, Wed., April 6, 1977, Denver, Colo. PHOTO by John Gordon: A large crowd of protesters, many in wheelchairs, are gathered outside a building. All are facing the building and a couple carry signs. Caption reads: Wheelchair demonstrators gather at noon Tuesday in front of federal courthouse. [Headline] Disabled protest lack of HEW action By Alan Cunningham Chanting slogans and carrying picket signs attached to crutches, more than 100 disabled persons staged a protest march and sit-in Tuesday at the federal office building in downtown Denver. Their sit-in was expected to last all night outside the regional office of the U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare (HEW) It was part of a nationwide protest aimed at forcing HEW Secretary Joseph Califano to sign regulations implementing a "handicapped bill of rights" passed by Congress nearly four years ago. The demonstration was peaceful, for the most part, but was marred by one incident in which a parking lot manager across the street from the federal complex allegedly assaulted demonstrator Dennis Wilcox, a quadraplegic, causing him to fall out of his wheelchair. Wilcox apparently was unhurt. The manager, James C. Chidlaw, insisted the encounter occurred accidentally as he attempted to guide stalled motorists through his lot. But, on complaints by Wilcox and another demonstrator, Chidlaw was cited into county court to face two charges of assault. Simultaneous demonstrations too part at HEW headquarters in Washington and at regional offices in Denver and eight other cities. They brought forth an assurance from Califano that he would sign the regulations “early in May," but Denver demonstrators — part of a nationwide coalition which had demanded he sign by Monday - were unimpressed. In speeches outside the federal courthouse at noon Tuesday, they declared they wanted to see immediate action by HEW, followed by an aggressive program to carry out various facets of the four-year-old law. At issue is Section 504 of the Federal Rehabilitation Act of 1973, which had never been put into effect. Handicapped groups have fought with HEW secretaries under Presidents Nixon, Ford and now Carter to force them to sign regulations which would implement the act. A federal judge ordered last year that such regulations be signed, but the matter still went unresolved. The law when it takes effect, will guarantee many of the same rights to handicapped Americans which were extended to racial minorities and to women under prior legislation of the last two decades. Its provisions are expected to force public school districts to open many more of their classrooms to wheelchair-bound students, to force employers to grant equal pay to handicapped employees and to provide more stringent civil rights guarantees to those in nursing homes and institutions. The protests brought assurances from several elected officials that they were trying to persuade President Carter to speed up action on the matter. Messages to this effect came from Gov.Lamm and U.S. Sen. Floyd Haskell, D-Colo. In addition, a Washington aide to Rep. Pat Schroeder, D-Colo., told the News late Tuesday that she was drafting a telegram asking that Carter order Califano to act. Other protests took place at HEW regional offices in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, Seattle and San Francisco. Among the leaders of the Denver gathering were Ingo Antonisch, executive director of the Mayor's Commission on the Disabled, and Don Galloway, the new executive director of the Governor's Advisory Council on the Handicapped. Even Antonisch, an Austrian-born man with a stiff German accent and a generally conservative approach, was drawn into the militancy of the event. After acting HEW regional director Ed Lapidas read Califano's "early in May" statement, Antonisch stepped to the microphone and said, "Thank you very much," which inspired a woman in the crowd to yell, "We don't thank him very much, Ingo!" Antonisch got in the spirit by declaring, "I would like to say we hear the message but we want to see the action." Galloway, a black man who has been blind since he was 16, stirred up the crowd with a brief speech reminiscent of earlier civil rights campaigns. Taking his cues, they responded with lusty cries of “Right on" Even many who had difficulty speaking loudly and clearly joined in as best they could. At one point, Lyle Peterson, master of ceremonies at the noon rally, tried to lead the crowd in a chorus of "We Shall Overcome," traditional anthem of the black civil rights movement. The song proceeded weakly for a few seconds, but died when one protestor interrupted, shouting: "We want our rights!" Immediately, the crowd picked up his line and began to chant "We want our rights!" with an enthusiasm that had been lacking in the aborted attempt to sing. BOXED TEXT: We hear the message but we want to see the action. -- Ingo Antonisch
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PHOTO: by Tom Olin. A long, single-file line of ADAPT marchers is headed by Lee Jackson (left), Bob Kafka (center), and Terri Fowler (right) being pushed by some one. Lee and Bob have on different ADAPT no steps logo T-shirts. Behind Bob someone is carrying the ADAPT flag, behind that person you can see Claude Holcomb, and a few more people back you can see Wade pushing someone (Paulette Patterson?). They are marching down the street (in front of the Russell Federal Building in Atlanta) A TV cameraman is standing on the sidewalk filming the march, and near him two people in wheelchairs and another person are on the sidewalk.
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Fourth Wave Magazine (Washington University) [This article continues in ADAPT 729, 721 and 739, but it is included here in it's entirety for easier reading.] Wheelchair Warriors Story and Photographs by Jan Neely Editor's note: Last May, Fourth Wave editorial intern Jan Neely and I flew to Chicago for our first ADAPT demonstration. ADAPT (or American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today, as it is more formally known), first took to the streets 12 years ago in Denver, Colorado, to fight for wheelchairaccessible public transportation. Today, with the passage of the ADA securing transportation access, ADAPT has taken on the nursing home industry, institutions and the United States government in an attempt to provide community based personal attendant care and housing to all persons with disabilities in all 50 states. Here’s what happened: ..... Editor Photo: A city sidewalk jamed with wheelchairs and a couple of cameramen standing beside them between parked cars. Larry Biondi is on front right side of the photo. People are basically lined up waiting to move out. Article begins: DAY ONE: ADAPT arrives in Chicago. Its my first demonstration and my first job as a photojournalist. "Click, click" goes my camera. Everybody else may look cool. but I'm shakin' in my shoes. Try to picture 300 people (most in wheelchairs) on the same mission. No pro-nursing home advocate is safe here! I feel as if I've just entered THE ADAPT ZONE! Actually, the first day was mellow and taken up with pre-action planning. ADAPT doesn't have any membership rules or requirements. You just have to believe that people with disabilities have the right to live without putting up with abuse of any kind. I'm real excited because this is the first group I've ever been involved with that has people with all kinds of disabilities, not just developmental disabilities. DAY 2 Here's ADAPT (photo 1) blocking the doors of the auditorium in hope of catching Dr. Sullivan when he leaves. The Chicago police and the Secret Service put up barricades and pushed back the activists. Victoria Medgyesi, editor of Fourth Wave and my traveling buddy, used her press pass to get into where Dr. Sullivan was to ask him some questions. He refused to talk to her about Medicaid, ADAPT or nursing home abuse. PHOTO 1: A line of Chicago police officers face off against a line of ADAPT protesters in wheelchairs who come up to about the middle of the officer's chests. In the forground there is a barricade, but further back they are just right up against each other. PHOTO 2: Three men in wheelchairs (__________, ___________ and JT Templeton sit in an open area in front of a barricade. Behind the barricade is a crowd of people. JT holds a poster that reads "Sullivan where are you?" Article continues... DAY 2 cont. Usually ADAPT doesn’t go around the country crashing graduations, but this one was different (photo 2) Here we are at the University of Chicago where Dr. Louis Sullivan, Secretary of Human and Health Services, is speaking to students who are going to be medical professionals. For the past two years, ADAPT has been trying to talk to Dr. Sullivan about redirecting 25 percent of the Medicaid budget for personal attendant care into a home-based program. But he has refused to talk to ADAPT or to change the rules. As the graduation crowd went in, ADAPT passed out flyers. As l told one person, “What if you become disabled someday? What if your family couldn't take care of you?" As for the police, at this time they just stood back and watched. One of the reasons ADAPT has public demonstrations is to make the public aware of what's important to people with disabilities. Actions like this keep us going to meetings back home even though what we say is usually ignored. DAY 3 The next day we went to one of ADAPT's all time favorite places to "act up": the state office of Health and Human Services. It was only a few blocks away from our downtown hotel. so all 300 of us got in a single line and went for a little walk. Did I say little? Wait a minute. a line of 300 people in wheelchairs plus their supporters? Little? I will admit it was the most incredible thing I have ever seen. ADAPT does not stop when it goes on one of its “little walks." It does not stop for lights, trucks, cars, cops, or anything else. It also goes right down the middle of the street. But that's not to say ADAPT isn't nice, oh no! All along the way ADAPT gave the people of Chicago (who lined up on the curbs to watch as we wheeled and walked by) little gifts of knowledge: flyers with the real scoop on nursing homes. PHOTO 3: Amid a long line of ADAPT folks marching in their wheelchairs, a man (Mark Johnson) in a wheelchair talks with a man (Bill Henning) and a woman who are walking beside him. PHOTO 4: A city street lined by tall buildings, is filled by ADAPT protesters apparently crowded from one side to the other. Several people standing closest to the camera but facing away (Jimmi Schrode is on the far left) raise their hands, thumbs up. Article continues... DAY 3 cont. It was a thrill to watch ADAPT in action. When the whole group got to the Federal building, it was a big mess. We blocked off streets and almost shut the building down. As ADAPT told the police, the media and all the people who gathered; “We declare this building a Federal nursing home... only this time, no one goes in or out without our permission! " The reason many activists do this is because they once lived in nursing homes and other institutions and know how bad those places are. Boy, can I relate. I have mild cerebral palsy and I’m lucky to have always lived at home. But will I always be lucky? I feel that as long as there are institutions, they will be a threat to the kind of life my friends and I want to live. This laid-back looking guy is Mike Auberger. He is one of the original ADAPT activists. ADAPT may look like a bunch of disorganized hippies who lost the map to Woodstock 20 years ago, but the opposite is true. In Mike's backpack is one of ADAPT's three cellular phones and the base walkie-talkie! Bill Scarborough, an activist from Texas, keeps the computer nerds in the know by sending the word out from his laptop computer to computer bulletin boards across the country. ADAPT also has a media person who goes to whatever city ADAPT is demonstrating in several days ahead to let people know whats going to happen. PHOTO 5: A very intense looking man (Mike Auberger) in a power chair is sitting sideways to the camera. Behind him is some kind of vehicle and the ADAPT crowd filling the street. Tisha Auberger (Cunningham) is squatting on the bottom right of the picture. After nine long hours of blocking the building's doors, representatives from HHS finally agreed to meet in the street with ADAPT. It turned into a regular media pow-wow. Activists told the administrators and the media what was needed by people with disabilities. Photo 6: A gaggle of reporters and photographers tightly encircle the Regional HHS Director and several ADAPT protesters (Teresa Monroe, center, and Bob Kafka, right side). Article continues... We talked and they listened, but I have a feeling the concern I saw on those experts' faces was just the same old B.S. All of ADAPT's demonstrations are non-violent, but they are important battles in a war fought by people who are fighting to lead decent lives. The possibility of being arrested did make me nervous. It made me feel a little better when ADAPT told the new people that, if you got arrested, the group would never leave you alone. They said ADAPT would tell the cops your needs, get you a good lawyer, and stay on the outside of the jail chanting so you would know ADAPT was with you. Photo 7: Portrait shot of a man (Gene Rogers) with long brown hair and glasses, sitting in his wheelchair. He is wearing a T-shirt with a larger than life sized photo of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr's face and the words "VIOLENCE IS IMMORAL" and a lengthy quote below that is too small to read in the photo. Article continues... DAY 4 As l was getting dressed I thought to myself “Today ADAPT is taking on the AMA." Oh God. what have l gotten myself into? l mean the AMA! The Big Brother of the medical world; the people who are not only in charge of admissions to nursing homes, but who are also in charge of giving prescriptions to people like me. I thought: What if my doctor saw me and did not like what I was doing with ADAPT? Would he stop giving me my blood pressure pills that I can't afford to buy? What would happen then? What about the others? Aren't they in the same boat? I got a lot more out of my trip to Chicago than just a story and a few good pictures. I met some people who are important to the disability rights movement. I felt accepted and I came home with the feeling that together we can really change things. People with disabilities need to keep talking. We need to demonstrate. We need to tell the so-called "experts" the real truth and try not to be too afraid while were doing it. Insert text box: Incitement, Stephanie Thomas Editor. What's happening on the front lines? Read INCITEMENT, the official newsmagazine of ADAPT, and learn the who, what, when, where and why behind today's headline news. Free! To order contact: ADAPT/INCITEMENT 1339 Lamar SQ DR Suite B, Austin, TX 78704 (512)442-0252 Second text insert at end of article: Jan Neely is a photography student at Olympic Community College and an editorial intern at Fourth Wave. She is active in People First of Washington. the end
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The Handicapped Coloradan A newsmagazine of the disability rights movement [This story continues in ADAPT 770, 759, 777, 769, 758 and 776 but the full text is included here for easier reading.] Photo by Tom Olin: On a downtown city intersection, a huge line of protesters in wheelchairs and walking wraps around a city street corner, down the full length of the block and out of sight. Motorcycle policemen ride alongside at several points. On the corner and in the crosswalk pedestrians look on. Title: ADAPT rolls into San Francisco In October 1992 scores of ADAPT members staged demonstrations in San Francisco. One of those demonstrators, Laura Hershey, kept a diary of those events. Six days in San Francisco Special Report to The Handicapped Coloradan What ADAPT has got, the thing that makes you difierent from other `groups`, is you realize that there's a war going on-—that people are dying, and locked up, and being tortured. —Johnny Creschendo, British musician, poet, & disability-rights activist The peaceable warriors of ADAPT took it to the streets of San Francisco this fall, protesting policies and institutions that limit freedom for people who are older or disabled. On Saturday, October 17, 300 members of the American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT) checked into the Ramada Hotel Civic Center on Market Street. Five days and 162 arrests later, the group left town, having raised the stakes once again in the battle against compulsory nursing home placement. ADAPT is demanding the creation of a national system of attendant services, to be available to anyone needing assistance to live independently, regardless of age, diagnosis, or geographical location. The funds for such a program, according to ADAPT, should come from diverting 25 percent of the federal money currently spent on institutionalizing people in nursing homes. This year, the federal nursing home budget is around $28 billion; ADAPT wants $7 billion transferred to in-home attendant services. This plan is being opposed by nursing home owners, and lacks the support of the federal government. Both came under attack by ADAPT, as did the two major presidential campaigns. The following is one participant‘s day-by-day report of the week’s events. PHOTO by Tom Olin: A man in a power chair (Mike Auberger) faces off with a policeman who has his hands on Mike's knees. All around Mike and the police other ADAPT protesters are gathered, some listening and watching the two, others looking ahead. Caption reads: Cops tug at demonstrator at Federal Center. Mike Auberger, one of the founders of ADAPT, meets up with San Francisco police. Article continues... Saturday: Day One Activists from the Bay Area hold a rally in Pioneer Square. Four of us, having arrived early with ADAPT’s advance team, decide to go check out the rally. We get there right at 2 p.m., when the gathering is supposed to begin; we are the first ones there, except for a dozen or so cops. Soon, however, Connie Arnold, Peter Mendoza, and a few other folks from the disability community show up, with arm bands, flyers, and a megaphone. Gradually a crowd of 40 or 50 gathers. As a gesture of support for ADAPT, the rally’s timing seems a little off, since most ADAPTers won’t arrive until later today. But at least it’s one way to encourage the involvement of some local people who, for one reason or another, won’t be joining the ADAPT protests. And locals do have a compelling interest here: California, once regarded almost as a disability utopia because of is generous and consumer-controlled services, is now experiencing harsh cutbacks due to a state budget crunch. Some in the community are beginning to realize that a nationwide system is needed. A few speakers introduce the issues: the cuts in personal assistance services, and the monopoly exercised by the nursing home industry. Then individuals are invited to come before the crowd and describe their own experiences with personal assistance services, independent living, and/or institutionalization. Sunday: Day Two Members of ADAPT from throughout the country, having rested a bit from the previous day’s traveling, gather in the hotel’s huge meeting room. The four-hour training covers ADAPT’s history and purposes, the basics of civil disobedience, and a tentative outline of the week’s activities, including the convention of the American Health Care Association (AHCA), which represents the nursing home industry. (The convention is the main reason ADAPT chose San Francisco this time around). Like most ADAPT meetings, this one is part strategy session, part pep rally. Mike Auberger, Stephanie Thomas, Shel Trapp, and others remind the group of our previous successes and our proven collective power. Meanwhile, the back of the room bustles with the buying and selling of T-shirts, jewelry, luggage tags, books, bandanas, and other ADAPT-logoed paraphernalia. These entrepreneurial activities are an important fundraising strategy; local chapters use the proceeds from these sales to help pay members’ travel expenses to ADAPT actions. With the introductory business taken care of, the group discussion turns to immediate plans. AHCA delegates are arriving today and will attend a cocktail party this evening. Since our arrival, the word has been passed that we would hit the Marriott Hotel, where the AHCA delegates are staying. But we don’t want the police to know that until we get here. So at the meeting, Auberger announces that our target is a cocktail party at the Moscone Convention Center. The meeting ends. People disperse to grab late lunches and/or bathroom breaks. Then we reassemble in the lobby at 4 p.m., lining up and dividing into color-coded teams. This preparation period is always busy but fun: hand-printed placards and duct tape are passed up and down the line, turning wheelchairs and bodies into mobile signboards with slogans like “NURSING HOMES = DEATH" and “MY HOME, NOT A NURSING. ” This is also a time of socializing and reunion, punctuated by shrieks of recognition, hugs, sharing of news. As we await our marching orders, we meet new people and greet friends we haven’t seen since the Chicago actions back in May or the Orlando actions a year ago. Finally we head out, marching single file down the middle of the street. We chant along the way: “FREE OUR BROTHERS, FREE OUR SISTERS, FREE OUR PEOPLE NOW!” and "UP WITH ATTENDANT CARE, DOWN WITH NURSING HOMES!” The police dutifully block the traffic, providing a safe and visible route through city streets to our destination. Our relationship with the police is a strange and sometimes contradictory one: they play a dual role, both adversary and escort. Along our route some are courteous, some indifferent. Here we don’t engage with them on the same intense level we will later on. When we get to Fourth Street, we stop at the Marriott instead of continuing on to the Moscone Center. We quickly separate into our teams. Despite our efforts to deceive them, the police are ready for us. They have fenced off every entrance with their steel barricades, yellow tape, and armed, heavy-booted officers. But this works fine for us — if they can keep us out, then we can keep everybody else out. Each team takes a different door. I end up posted at the main entrance, in line with a dozen other protestors. A barricade separates us from the door, but we are effectively blocking access for the AHCA delegates, many of whom are trying to return to the hotel after a day of shopping. The sight of these well-dressed men and women, laden with packages, really gets us fired up. Their affluence and conspicuous consumption are their rewards for exploiting the needs of people who are older or disabled. We turn up the volume of our chanting: “PEOPLE ARE DYING, SHAME ON YOU!” and a popular favorite, “WE’RE ADAPT, YOU’RE TRAPPED, GET USED TO IT! ” When the AHCA delegates will look at us at all, they look with contempt. Occasionally one will read a poster on somebody’s wheelchair, and roll their eyes. They talk to each other, ridiculing our words and actions. They feel unfairly singled out for harassment, and they are frustrated and angry at our ability to prevent them from moving freely in and out of the hotel. One guy comes right up to me and starts shouting above my head at the cop standing behind me: “Are you going to allow this? What are you going to do about this?” The officer tries to explain that they can’t just rough up a bunch of disabled people; somebody might get hurt. The AHCA guy thinks that’s absurd. He says he wants to go down to the police station and file some kind of complaint against us. When he stops talking, I tell him that his is how people in nursing homes must feel, confined against their will. “Well, there’s two sides to every story, ” he says. He goes on to insist that the people in nursing homes want to be there. I notice that his official name badge has a tag on it that says “AHCA PAC.” He is part of the organization’s political action committee, which lobbies Congress for more nursing home dollars. He is really angry. For a moment I am afraid he’s going to have a heart attack right there on the sidewalk. But he eventually gives up and leaves. The standoff continues for a couple of hours. The police do manage to open an entrance through the garage, and allow hotel guests in while barricading protestors out. Finally the word comes around, through ADAPT’s mysterious but effective communication system, that we are going to declare victory and go back to our hotel. We march back the same way we came, again chanting all the way. That evening, and indeed most of the next four evenings, our coverage on the TV news attests to the impact of our message and of our action. It’s not easy to get coverage in a city with so much going on, including a protest every other day or so. But they haven’t seen protests like this in a while. Monday: Day Three Today we will hit two targets at once. For months, ADAPT has been calling and writing to President George Bush and to Governor Bill Clinton, demanding that they endorse the ADAPT plan for a national attendant services program. Neither has given a satisfactory response, although Clinton has been getting closer and closer. He has declared his support for a national system of guaranteed, consumer-driven attendant services. Yet he still hadn’t made clear how he would finance the program, whether he would take on the nursing home industry and procure the money from that budget. So today we will try to take over both candidates’ local campaign offices. The Bush office is a particularly juicy target; Bush, despite his much-touted signing of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), is an unpopular figure with many of us. The reasons range from his penchant for cutting social programs to his militaristic foreign policy to his anti-abortion stance—but also because it’s his administration, his Secretary of Health and Human Services, which has resisted our demands for guaranteed attendant services for the past two years. When the day’s assignments are made, several people request going to Bush headquarters, feeling that he is a more loathsome foe. But some of us feel it's just as important to put pressure on Clinton—or perhaps even more important, since polls show he is likely to be the next president. We all march together down Van Ness Street, again following a route cleared of traffic by police on foot and on motorcycle. At Republican headquarters, half of our group breaks away and charges the building. These protestors are barred from entering by police, but they manage to block the doors for a time. Staff members are hostile, refusing even to discuss the issue under these circumstances. Ultimately, the police forcibly move protestors away from the entrance. PHOTO by Tom Olin: A mass of ADAPT people in wheelchairs fills a sidewalk and most of the picture, with a handful of police officers in their dark uniforms, standing in front of a building. Caption reads: AT GOP headquarters. Article continues... The Clinton headquarters turns out to be a friendlier place, although it takes some time for the import of our message to be fully understood. Several dozen protestors take the front door, where the staff had ordered ramps built in anticipation of our actions. Thirty more or dash around to the back, where there are a couple of entrances through a small garage. (I’m in this group.) We encounter no resistance, and we quickly fill most of the room’s available space. As soon as we have staked our territory, we begin chanting the usual refrains, so loudly that it’s difficult for the workers to conduct their telephone business. In a strange and unexpected response, somebody begins cutting and serving a large cake! So on the spot, we invent new chants: “CAKE IS NOT ENOUGH—FREE OUR PEOPLE NOW” and “CUT THE CAKE, CUT THE CRAP, CLINTON’S GOT TO FACE ADAPT!” AND “COME ON CLINTON, COME ON GORE, DON’T IGNORE US ANYMORE!” For a while we just hang out with the staffers. Some are aloof, some visibly annoyed by our presence. Good liberals they may be, but they can’t see anything outside this game of politics—they don’t like it when people break the rules. Others, however, take a little time to talk with us, to ask questions and try to understand our issues. I talk with one young woman who wants to know more about our demands. She admits she doesn’t feel Clinton is addressing all of her issues either, but she’s working for him because she hopes he'll be better than Bush. She encourages us to keep pushing Clinton after the election. “Don’t worry, we will,” I tell her. Word comes from near the front of the building that efforts are underway to contact Bill Clinton in Michigan, where he is getting ready for the campaign’s final debate that evening. No word back from him yet. Meanwhile, in the back, negotiations begin over more mundane matters. The office director, Willie Fletcher, assures us that we can stay as long as we like—but he asks us to let his people get to the bathroom. We huddle to consider this. We come back with a deal: turn off all the computers for the rest of the day, and we’ll allow access to the bathrooms. After all, our objective today isn’t to cause severe discomfort; it’s to halt the office’s work for the day, in order to get Clinton’s attention. Fletcher readily agrees to this proposition. “Shut ‘em off! ” he orders his staff. We catch a few cheaters later, but by and large the workers abide by the agreement. Now we reach a kind of detente with the office staff. Most seem resigned to our presence; a few actively seek dialog with us. Fletcher tells me he has no intention of calling the police—unless we want him to. Would it help our cause more to have some arrests? I give a vague answer, put the ball back in his court. He only repeats that we’re welcome to stay. Some remain hostile, however. One young man, determined to leave through the door we’re blocking, bullies his way between the dense cluster of people and wheelchairs. He pushes hard, not stopping and not caring who he hurts in the process. We shout at him to stop, but he ignores us. Later he returns and wants to re-enter. Our reaction is immediate, and so strong that Fletcher comes over to see what’s wrong. “This guy is a jerk!” we yell. “He is not getting back in here!” Fletcher orders the kid to get lost. “Don’t come back today! ” Fletcher calls after him. For the rest of the day, we hold our post, waiting for news. Finally, Fletcher receives a statement from Little Rock, which he presents at the front door. It isn’t everything we want, but it’s a start. In it, Clinton vows to establish a Task Force on Attendant Services within the first 100 days of his administration. He also promises that ADAPT will have at least one slot on that Task Force. We stay a while longer. Staffers wind up their work for the day, and collect around a color television. People begin arriving for the debate party, When they realize they can’t get in, they gather behind us in the garage, sitting on crates or standing. Fletcher brings a small TV over to the door, so they - and we — can watch. About halfway through the debate, ADAPT declares another victory, and leaves. Fletcher wishes us luck. PHOTO by Tom Olin: A woman in a white blouse with a political button, purses her lips as she looks out over the crowd. Her back is to the building, and beside her a man in a wheelchair (Bob Kafka) speaks over a bullhorn. Both are on a platform above the sidewalk with a railing and a large crowd of ADAPT protesters is on the street below. Caption reads: A visit with the Dems article continues... Tuesday: Day Four Today we hit the Federal Building, at Number One United Nations Plaza. This is the place that disability rights activists occupied for several weeks in 1978, to protest the government's failure to establish regulations implementing Section 504 of the 1973 Rehabilitation Act. It’s also the site of a continuous AIDS vigil. Staffed by volunteers 24 hours a day, the vigil’s purpose is to call attention to the U.S. government’s inaction in the face of the AIDS crisis and to disseminate information on services and prevention. I’ve spoken to several of these folks over the past several days, and they are very much in support of our actions. People disabled by AIDS too often end up dying in nursing homes, for lack of the in-home assistance they need. With our chairs, we quickly blockade every entrance to the Federal Building, including the driveway sloping down into a garage. Federal police threaten us with arrest; we hold our ground. It’s the city police, however, who soon start moving in. Things heat up fast. They start hauling us away from the doorways, putting into practice their days of training before our arrival. Mayor Feinstein’s disability advisor and another local advocate were assigned to instruct the officers in how to forcibly arrest people with disabilities, how to lock and unlock wheelchair brakes, and how to disengage motors in order to push chairs manually. The cop I encountered obviously hadn’t paid close enough attention. He comes up behind me and orders me to move. I refuse. He reaches down to disengage my gears so he can move me. But he grabs the wrong levers, and puts on my brakes instead! This makes pulling my chair extremely difficult; he has to yank so hard that he nearly tips my chair over. Once they have cleared us away from the doorways, the police quickly erect barriers and form an aisle for the federal employees to walk in and out of the building. For a while, held back on either side of this corridor, all we can do is keep up a steady stream of chanting at the people passing between our two lines. Then, protestors start wheeling into the street, trying to block the entrance to the passageway. Things get even wilder from there. Cops are trying to restrain wheelchairs, both electric and manual. Meanwhile, they’re going after any ambulatory protestors who step out of line. Then people start throwing themselves out of their wheelchairs, trying to scramble between barricades, or just sitting there waiting for arrest. That’s what the police are trying to avoid— what with the hassle, the bad publicity, and the fear of inflicting injuries, arresting people in chairs just isn’t worth it. On the other hand, they do want to shut this down. Faced with few choices, the police start hauling people off. The mass arrest takes hours: two or three at a time, the arrestees are loaded into the lift-equipped vans the city has rented from a local paratransit company. These are the same vehicles, and the same drivers, that transported many of us from the airport. Our ranks diminished by the 49 arrests, we leave the area around the Federal Building. We find a spot nearby for an impromptu meeting. Wade Blank tells the exhausted troops that this has been a very successful action; we can be proud of a day of strength and commitment. He also says that the police expect us to retreat now. Are we up for another demonstration? The response is an enthusiastic Yes! So off we go in the direction of a new target. Again, we have been kept in partial darkness about specifics, to avoid cluing in our eavesdropping hotel security guards. It turns out to be the California State Building. We take its two exits easily, and hold it for the rest of the afternoon. Then we go back to the hotel, where we greet like heroes the returning arrestees. Wednesday: Day Six For two days we’ve given the AHCA delegates a break while we harassed other targets. Now we head back to the Marriott for our parting shot. We follow the usual game plan at the now-familiar building. This time we protest even more intensely, shouting angrily at the passing delegates. Our chants are more pointed: “HO HO, HEY HEY, HOW MANY BEDS DID YOU FILL TODAY?” which evolves into “HO HO, HEY HEY, HOW MANY CRIPS DID YOU KILL TODAY?” The police seem angrier too. Especially two cops near me, guarding a barricade across the hotel’s garage entrance. They delight in making snide comments. When we see two officers handcuffing one of our brothers who has anhritis, his face contorted in pain at the tightness of the cuffs and the angle of his arms, the cop nearest me sneers, “Look at Mr. Hollywood over there.” “They're hurting him! ” we counter. “Aren’t you gong to make them stop?” “Yeah, we’ll get right on that,” one cop laughs. This kind of sarcasm continues throughout the afternoon. I grow more and more uncomfortable and annoyed at the ignorance and disrespect displayed by these two officers. Finally I decide to leave my post at the garage entrance. I don’t abandon it; I find another protestor to take my place. I want to check out some other action. A runner approaches me with a message: “They’re looking for some people to help block traffic at the intersection. Do you want to get arrested?” I had thought not, but my feelings have changed. I can’t stand another minute with the sarcastic cops at my post; and I feel so energized by what’s been happening all week, that I don’t want to miss any part of the experience. With ADAPT, part of the experience is going to jail. It’s by no means the total experience, and I’ve never felt pressured to be arrested to prove my commitment. But suddenly l feel ready, willing, and able. I join the line growing across the street. Traffic has already been diverted, so we’re not causing much of a tie-up. Nevertheless, a few officers arrive, and ask us nicely to go back onto the sidewalk. One by one, we refuse. By now, the police have rehearsed this routine pretty thoroughly. With resigned efficiency, they take us to the waiting vans, where drivers load us on the lifts and tie down our chairs according to California’s strict guidelines. We are taken to Pier 38, down on the waterfront. There, we are herded into two large holding pens. Then, one at a time, we are called up, processed, asked for identification, and issued a citation. After that we are each released. The whole process is excruciatingly thorough, time-consuming, and rather dull. But the officers involved in the entire arrest and booking procedure are courteous and respectful. They offer explanations, and even occasional compliments. A few commend us for our commitment and offer words of support for our cause. Later than evening, everyone collects in our hotel conference room for the final events of the week. Business taken care of, the ADAPTers now go all out in a celebration of ourselves, not just as a movement, but as a community. There is a wedding, a very moving ceremony, officiated by the Reverend Wade Blank, as two long-time members of ADAPT declare their love and ask the support of their brothers and sisters. And the group does give its support—enthusiastically, emotionally, loudly! I've never heard so much cheering at a wedding before. The fact that the betrothed are two men doesn’t seem to bother anybody. A gay wedding is perfectly consistent with ADAPT’s principles of equality, inclusiveness, and individual liberty. The evening, and the week, ends with a minicultural festival. ADAPT members share their poetry, music, humor, and visions of the future. The star performers are Johnny Creschendo and Barbara Lysicki, two activists from London, England. They have been with us all week; Barbara’s comedy routines and Johnny’s songs and poems therefore resonate all the more deeply with the experience and goals of the audience. Though we’re all exhausted, we join in singing Johnny’s lyrics: I don’t want your benefit We want dignity from where we sit We want choices and rights in our lives I don't want you to speak for me Just listen and then you'll see We’ve got choices and rights in our lives Choices and rights, that’s What we’ve got to fight for- Choices and rights in our lives! ” PHOTO by Tom Olin: A man in a wheelchair (Bob Kafka) is doubled over forward in his lap, arms zip-tied to his chair. Two police stand beside him one, holding a white board that has his arrest details on it. Other police are partially in the picture, one taking the arrest photo, another with a fist full of zip-ties. Behind Bob Tisha Auberger is standing looking over her shoulder. Caption reads: At the Federal Center. If you'd like to join ADAPT for fun and freedom in Washington, D.C this May, just call Mike Auberger at (303) 733-9324
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Chicago Tribune Tribune photo by Carl Wagne: A march of ADAPT through the streets of Chicago. In front, left to right: a man in a red Chicago ADAPT "ADAPT or Perish T-shirt with a picture of man evolving from monkey to ape to man to wheelchair user, a man with no legs (Jerry Eubanks) in a manual chair chanting and holding a poster that reads "Free Our People" and being pushed by a man (Mark Pasquesi), a woman (Paulette Patterson) holds a bullhorn in front of her face, a man in a fishing hat (Bob Kafka) and yellow ADAPT shirt with a sign that reads "Attendant Services NOW!!". Behind the first man is a nab with a head pointer being pushed by a man (Tim Wheat) in a purple ADAPT shirt. Behind Paulette is a man in a suit in a wheelchair and beside him another man (possibly Michael Champion) and behind them a woman (Cassie James) in a power chair, and beside her a woman in a red shirt. As the line goes back it becomes less clear to distinguish people. Title: Disabled protest funds allocation Members of a disabled rights group begin a march from the Bismark Hotel to the regional offices of the Department of Health and Human Services at 105 W. Adams St. Monday to attempt to talk with representatives. The demonstrators, from the group American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit [sic](ADAPT), were protesting to have more money allocated for home care, rather than nursing home care. ADAPT wants the govemment to institute a policy to fund community-based attendant service allowing disabled people to stay home.
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Photo Tom Olin?: A view from on high of the line of the ADAPT march down a Chicago street. The line is mostly single file with a T at the front. On the sides a few walking people with ADAPT are helping and police are walking along the street side of the march. On the sidewalk a TV cameraman is filming. From the front of the march left to right you can see Jerry Eubanks being pushed by Bill Henning, Bob Kafka, and Paulette Patterson. Behind them is another row of three activist including Paulette Sanchez and one woman pushing a wheelchair with a small coffin in it. Behind them is another row of three Dorothy Ruffin, a small person behind the coffin and Debbie ______, behind them is someone in a white shirt and Sparky Metz, then George Roberts in a cap and behind him Janette Roberts is holding his chair, next to her San Antonio Fuentes, behind him is possibly Walter Hart and Bobby Thompson is a bit out of the line, then three people, then someone being pushed possibly by Bill Scarborough, then Danny Saenz, then Jennifer McPhail in a purple shirt behing pushed by Richard Zapata, someone is rolling beside them and Babs Johnson is walking beside them too. Behnd that group it gets more difficult to make out faces, but the line goes on out of the top of the picture.
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[This artlice continues in ADAPT 412, but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] PHOTO 1: A group of protesters in wheelchairs, in a rough line, head down the street toward the camera. In front and to one side a policeman on a motorcycle/trike. Caption: ADAPT demonstrators, with police escort, on their way from the Arch to Union Station, via Market Street PHOTO 2: Four protesters in wheelchairs block a flight of stairs in a lobby type area as people walk by. From left to right they are Ryan Duncan, Heather Blank, unknown protester, and Wayne Spahn. Caption: Demonstrators blocked access to stairways in Union Station, trying to force a confrontation with APTA officials. [No Title or author or publication given for this article on the clipping. It does not appear be the start of the article.] "They bill it as door to door service, but it does crazy things like, if you want to go from west county to the city, it will pick you up but leave you at the city-county line." Bi-State plans to expand the service in December by adding 11 lift-equipped vans and extending the service into the city. The system will also extend its hours of operation, to 6 a.m. to 7 p m. Its use in the city limits will be limited to disabled passengers, Plesko says, and, with the extended hours, disabled workers will be able to use the service to get to their jobs. While some other cities are making similar (or greater) progress — San Francisco, for one, has lifts on every one of its buses — things are still moving too slowly for the members of ADAPT. And they blame the slow pace on APTA. (ADAPT members who came to St. Louis this week stressed that they were here because of their quarrel with APTA and were not here to demonstrate against Bi-State. They said they approved of the plans Bi-State had made for the achievement of 100 percent accessibility, but nonetheless questioned the slow pace at which that was occurring.) The fight between ADAPT and APTA has its roots in the 1970s. During the Carter administration, the Department of Transportation (DOT) issued rules requiring transit systems to have at least half of their buses equipped with wheelchair lifts. Those regulatioms came out of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, a landmark federal law that many in the disabled community point to as being equivalent to the Civil Rights Act of 1964. But APTA filed suit against DOT for its regulations and a federal court upheld APTA's argument for "local option," that is, allowing individual transit authorities to decide how they would comply with the spirit of the regulation requiring adequate accessible transportation for the disabled. Says APTA's Engelken, "These decisions are best made locally, because the local transit systems understand the needs of their passengers. For example, it would not be feasible to have a transit system for the disabled based on 100 percent lift-equipped buses in Fargo, North Dakota, because in the winter it would be almost impossible for someone in a wheel chair to get to a bus stop and wait for a bus. Able-bodied people have enough trouble (there)." Says Bob Kafka, another ADAPT leader, "(That) is one of the arguments people use for not providing transportation. They say, 'People in a motorized wheelchair can't get there, so why provide (accessible buses)?' But do you know what a person in a motorized wheelchair has to do to get to the bus stop? He has to hit a joystick. Little old ladies cleaning people's homes for years, with fallen arches, and having to carry shopping bags, no one has ever said we need special transit for them. But a disabled person who has to hit a joystick to operate his wheelchair, we need special transportation for them because it’s too cold, too snowy, too hilly, too wet, too this. "It's like were going to break, were going to fall apart." ADAPT sees APTA's insistence on local option as an attempt by the group to foster so-called "separate-but-equal” transportation systems. They say that APTA is attempting to segregate transit systems; keeping disabled passengers out of the mainstream system. ADAPT was formed in 1982 in Denver by Auberger and a handful of other members of that city's disabled community. It was put together because APTA had scheduled a convention for Denver and APTA's resistance to 100 percent accessible main-line public transportation for the disabled made the trade organization the moral equivalent of "the Ku Klux Klan and the Nazi party" for disabled Americans, Kafka says. Thirty demonstrators showed up at the first protest, and there have been eight subsequent protests, all at APTA regional or national conferences. The demonstrators model their actions after the non-violent civil rights activists of the 1960s. They block access to buses: they block access to the APTA convention sites. Some, including Auberger, chain themselves to buses or to doorways. The aim is arrest and the accompanying media attention. Auberger has been arrested at least 30 times by his own count, including this past Sunday at the Omni Hotel. ADAPT's militant tactics have drawn criticism from several corners, including others who work in the disabled community. "While we agree with the goals and-objectives of accessibility for disabled persons, we don't agree with the tactics of civil disobedience or confrontation as a means to achieve those objectives," says Ginny Weber, assistant to Deborah Phillips, the commissioner of the city's Office on the Disabled. "There are other ways to get things done," she says. "You can go through the legislative process. You can conduct public awareness campaigns. Over the last 10 years, some progress has been made. To change conditions that have been in existence for a long time takes a while. You have to just stay in there' and keep working towards it." Sheldon Caldwell, executive director of the St. Louis Society for Crippled Children, agrees. "I don't think it pleads our case well to have a group with a disruptive militant attitude. This is my personal opinion: I haven't polled my staff on this, but I don't think disruption is ever the way to go about it. But others are not as harsh in their judgment. "I take a different position (from those who criticize ADAPT)," says Paraquad's Tuscher. "I have the point of view that there are many ways to get from where we are to where we want to go. We're more likely to use negotiation, legislative action, legal action, public relations campaigns. Confrontation is not one of our methods, but I don't think it's my place to judge (ADAPT). Let history judge: let history prove whose method is the right one." About the criticism from within the disabled community, ADAPT's Kafka says, "Those who are in power are not going to give it up to you willingly. Without the push of civil disobedience, even the Civil Rights Act would never have come about." Says Auberger, "(Negotiation and public relations campaigns) delay the justice. It's not perceived as delaying justice, but it is. They are doing harm to their disabled brothers and sisters by saying, 'I don't support their tactics, but I do agree with their position.— Because other groups for the disabled receive so much financial support from corporations, they are less willing to be as direct in their demands as is ADAPT, he says. "They will eat a lot of garbage just to get half the loaf. "If you're going to change things, you have to get rid of the notion right away that you are going to be someone's friend," he says. "Be-cause someone is going to want something different than you do. The city of St. Louis and I will never be friends. The police and I will never be friends, but I won't lose any sleep over it. I know when I leave here, people will be talking about this issue in a way it hasn't been talked about before and something might change. "You look at demonstrators in history. Go back to the civil rights movement. The blacks who demonstrated weren't seen as 'nice.' If you go back further, to the women's suffrage movement, those women who wanted the right to vote weren't seen as mom and apple pie. But typically people who have been vocal about their rights are never perceived as being nice." PHOTO 1: Two men, one a plain clothes policeman and the other the bus driver, load a man in a scooter onto an accessible bus as several other people in suits and uniforms look on. Caption: St. Louts police arrested 41 demonstrators at the Sunday protest by ADAPT at the Omni. PHOTO 2: A man (Mike Auberger) with his hair pulled back tightly, wearing glasses, a beard and an ADAPT no steps T-shirt, sits in a long hall with bars of light on the walls and ceiling. He holds up his hands, fingers permanently folded at the first joint, guesturing as he speaks. He has a chest strap to hold him in his motorized wheelchair. Caption: Mike Auberger, one of the founders of ADAPT
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A screen full of people marching. Many are wearing the green ADAPT t-shirt with the old no step logo. In the center Diane Coleman in her motorized wheelchair is carrying a giant white poster behind her that reads "We the people..." over her head. Beside her Cindy Keelan pushes her daughter Jennifer's wheelchair. Diane looks very determined.
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Handicapped Coloradan October 1987 Title: 123 arrested in San Francisco ADAPT blocks cable cars For years San Francisco area disabled rights activists chose to look the other way as that city's historic cable cars transported tourists and locals up and down the steep hills in cars inaccessible to persons in wheelchairs. And then ADAPT (the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit) hit town. On Tuesday, Sept. 29, scores of wheelchair militants dodged police barricades and, hauled their wheelchairs onto the cable car turntable at Market Street. Protesters managed to prevent the cable cars from moving for more than two hours until police cut the chains they were using to attach their wheelchairs to the turntable. Of the 75 protesters arrested on the spot, 43 were booked and spent the night on cots in the county prison gymnasium on the seventh floor of the Hall of Justice. Outside the hall, 80 persons in wheelchairs maintained a candlelight vigil throughout the night. Many tourists were upset with the protesters, yelling at them that they were ruining their vacation. Protesters replied that the tourists' inconvenience would last only a few hours, while they faced a lifetime of inaccessible public transportation. ADAPT was in San Francisco to make just that point to the several thousand delegates attending the national convention of the American Public Transit Association (APTA), a trade group which represents most of the country's transit providers. Some 123 demonstrators were arrested during the San Francisco protest. "Every year it's a new record for the Guinness book," said Wade Blank, one of ADAPT's founders. Many of the other arrests took place as wheelchair activists blocked buses and streets to prevent APTA delegates from attending social functions outside the convention hall. A highlight of the week-long action was a Sunday parade when more than 500 demonstrators formed an eight-block-long river of wheelchairs. "It's got to be one of the most moving and impressive sights I've ever witnessed," Blank said. San Francisco police complimented the demonstrators on their organizational abilities, according to Blank. "We couldn't have done this a few years ago," he said. Blank said one of the highlights of the week for him was when police stopped APTA's executive director Jack Gilstrap from climbing over a fence to avoid a confrontation with the demonstrators.
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The front of the march with the rest of the marchers in the background and tall city buildings in the background. Across the front row young Jennifer Keelan is being pushed in her chair by her mother Cindy. Next to her is Bob Kafka in his manual chair and with his no steps ADAPT logo T-shirt and a piece of blue duct tape on his knee. Beside him is Diane Coleman in her motorized wheelchair and with red tape on her knee. Over her head you can partially see a sign reading "We the People..." Beside the sign Julie Farrar's face is visible and behind Bob you can see Justin Dart. Behind Jennifer and Cindy a motorcycle policeman is visible.
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San Francisco Examiner 9/28/87 Still waiting for the bus Photo by Examiner/Kurt Rogers: A row of policemen in dark uniforms facing away from the camera make most of the photo black. At their sides you can see night sticks and their hands on their hips. Between them you can see a very young (about 6 years old) Jennifer Keelan mouth open in a loud chant and behind her, barely visible is her mother Cindy. To the right Diane Coleman is framed by two other policemen, and between them mostly hidden by the officer's legs, is Bob Kafka. Caption reads: A contingent of disabled and elderly protesters roll up Post Street in S.F. after holding Union Square rally. Headline: Disabled protest transit group’s policies By Ken O'Toole of the Examiner staff Disabled people from across the nation took to the streets of San Francisco Sunday to demand better access to public transportation, rolling through downtown streets in a wheelchair caravan that stretched from Union Square to the downtown Hilton Hotel. Chanting, “We want access” and "We will ride," the crowd of several hundred disabled and their supporters rolled with police escorts to the hotel, where the annual meeting of the American Public Transit Association was taking place. The protesters were halted at the hotel's doors by a line of police, and after a brief rally moved on to City Hall, where they confronted transit association members going to a cocktail party. Police arrested 20 people, including 16 in wheelchairs, for blocking the sidewalk and failing to disperse. They were cited and released. One demonstrator. who was not wheelchair-bound, was booked for felony assault after he kicked a police officer in the chest. Police estimated that there were 500 demonstrators. The march, spirited but orderly, did not seriously disrupt traffic as scores of wheelchair-bound protesters voiced their displeasure with the associations policies and called for restoration of a national transit policy that would require wheelchair lifts on all public buses and trolleys. Both protesters and officials of the Municipal Railway noted the irony of the demonstration taking place in a city that has one of the best disabled-accessibility programs in the United States. California and Michigan are the only states that require all new buses to have wheelchair lifts. However, outside California, most disabled people are "segregated from public transit, and are often regulated to lengthy waiting lists for door-to-door van service" or no service at all, said a spokeswoman for the September Alliance for Accessible Transit. The group, in conjunction with American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit, plans more demonstrations as the transit association meets here through Thursday. Transit association Executive Vice President Jack Gilstrap said, “it's not a disagreement over whether we serve the disabled; it's how its to be done. Our position, and we're consistent with federal law and the courts, is for each community to decide how the service (to the handicapped) should be supplied." He said that lifts can cost $10,000 to $15,000 and that individual communities should be able to decide whether the money might be better spent on other transit woes. "lt's a very emotional issue," Gilstrap said, "but (public-transit agencies) have short resources. You're doing a good job here in the Bay Area, but with an extraordinary level of taxes." Muni spokeswoman Annette Wire said a total of 280 buses In the system have lifts, and 16 Muni lines are totally accessible to the handicapped. At a Union Square rally before the march, Lt. Gov. Leo McCarthy called for full access to public transportation. Saying laws that guarantee rights to all people have been undermined, McCarthy said disabled people have a right to access to school and work through public transportation. "Transportation means independence," McCarthy said, “and independence means opportunity." The Rev. Cecil Williams of Glide Memorial Church called on the disabled to take America to a new task... You may be called to set what's wrong right." A wheelchair-bound San Franciscan named Gill rolled into the crowd of demonstrators at Union Square and said he liked what he saw. But he said, “San Francisco is moving in the right direction. I travel sometimes miles a day (in the electric wheelchair) and I usually don‘! have any problems. except with the occasional inexperienced bus driver." Joe Carley, of Dallas, Texas, said since he was restricted to a wheelchair several years ago, at age 38, I realized: ‘This can happen to at anybody. Transportation is the A-Number 1 concern for anyone who's disabled. Federal and state governments don't really see transportation as a right. We want to live, not just survive." Photo by Examiner/Kurt Rogers: A really large group of people, many in wheelchairs head down a street. Caption reads: Demonstrators protest American Public Transit Association's policies on disabled accessibility.
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PHOTO by Tom Olin?: A woman [Beverly Furnice] lying in her motorized wheelchair, her legs fully extended, leads a long line of ADAPT marchers down a broad city street in front of the Hyatt Regency. Behind her, with a very determined look on her face, is a small woman [Cathy Thomas] in a power chair, legs also extended. Behind her is a man in a scooter [Mark McTimmus?] with several signs in his basket on the front of his scooter. Behind him is another man [Sam ____]. In the line you can make out Babs Johnson in an orange shirt, she is riding on the back of Mike Auberger's chair and talking to her daughter Tisha Auberger. Many people have signs over their legs or laps, a few are holding posters on sticks.