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Startseite / Alben / Schlagwort civil rights 51
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ADAPT (1)
[This continues on ADAPT 2 and 3, but the entire text has been included here in ADAPT 1 for easier reading.] [letterhead] Atlantis Community Inc 2965 west 11th avenue denver colo 80204 303 893 8040 [Headline] The Atlantis Story In June of 1975, Atlantis was born as an alternative to the lives that young disabled persons were being forced to endure in nursing homes and state institutions. Early in 1974, a group of concerned disabled people and able-bodied allies began educating themselves to the plight of the young disabled adult. They found that the majority of these young people (some as young as twelve) who were living in nursing homes were virtually trapped in a stagnating, paternalistic prison where civil rights were blatantly violated, medical care was poor and impersonal, and individual initiative and self actualization were hostilely discouraged. The group that later became Atlantis began looking for alternatives to the prejudiced, dehumanizing lives these young people were seemingly doomed to continue. The first attempt was to create a special youth program in a nursing home, the object of which was to provide normalizing educational and social experiences. The program was to a large degree successful in terms of individual liberation, but it soon became apparent that the humanistic goals of the Atlantis group were in direct conflict with the profit making motivation and paternalistic traditions of the nursing home industry. It was then that the Atlantis Early Action Project was conceived - early in 1975. The goals were clear: to allow every disabled individual, regardless of the extent of her/his disability, the same rights and responsibilities of their able bodied peers - the freedom to choose a lifestyle and fulfill personal goals in education, employment, and personal growth, and freedom from a punitive traditional system that stigmatizes the disabled and segregates them from the mainstream of society. The planning started in January of 1975. Public housing units were leased from the Denver Housing Authority in the Las Casitas Development. Funds from the Colorado Division of Vocational Rehabilitation were secured to renovate the apartments and make them accessible to wheelchairs. In June, the first eight residents moved in. All were former 'patients’ in nursing homes, all had the courage and the desire to live on the outside. In a little over two years, Atlantis has grown from eight residents and a volunteer staff to an attendant staff of forty individuals and forty participants/residents. Seventeen of the residents presently live in the Early Action site, which has become a transitional living center, the remainder live in private sector apartments throughout the city and receive services from Atlantis. Traditionally the young disabled person has been denied the right to an adequate education or meaningful employment and has been sent to nonaccredited, segregated ‘special’ schools or to sheltered workshops to count fish hooks or untangle old phone cords for five cents an hour. Those who reside in nursing homes are often provided with no programming at all. At Atlantis, we try to assist the individual in fulfilling whatever goals s/he outlines. At the present time, residents are attending Denver Opportunity School, Boettcher School, and several of the area colleges. In addition, a constitutional law suit has been initiated by an Atlantis resident in an attempt to change existing laws which deny equal educational opportunities to the disabled. With funds from the Denver Opportunity School, Atlantis operates an Adult Education Center which offers individualized courses in remedial basic skills, speech therapy, and Braille. In an employment and basic life enrichment program financed by the Colorado Division of Vocational Rehabilitation, Atlantis provides a variety of employment opportunities to disabled persons and seeks out employment possibilities in the Denver-Metro area. In keeping with the Atlantis Charter, fifty percent of all positions at Atlantis are occupied by disabled individuals. Our experience has shown that merely providing housing and attendant services does not fully equip the disabled person coming out of an institution to lead an independent, self-directed life. For this reason, special programs have been initiated to aid residents in acquiring the skills necessary to take responsibility for their own lives. Home Training Classes, where residents meet in seminars and share ideas and skills, are held to teach how to organize and maintain an apartment. A Consumer Advocate teaches residents how to perform their own consumer activities such as budgeting money, using a checking account, and buying food and clothing. Other advocacy services available include a twenty four hour a day Crisis Hotline, a Financial Coordinator who assists individuals in getting their public assistance benefits, a Housing Information Service, a Legal Advocacy Service, and a Counseling Referral Service. Disabled persons are not 'sick' people. They do not require a 24 hour a day medical staff of nurses and aides to supervise their personal needs and social activities. What is needed is a consistent source of reliable assistance when they want it. In an attempt to break the traditional concept of home health care - Atlantis hires a pool of professionals who are trained and supervised by a Rehabilitation R.N. Attendant assistance is scheduled as it fits into individual routines and responds to individualized needs. Emphasis in health care is on teaching people to monitor their own - to be aware of their particular needs and be capable of getting those needs filled either self—sufficiently or with assistance. Staff is available on a twenty four hour a day basis in case an emergency arises, and can be reached by a call to the Crisis Hotline. The resident is responsible for scheduling baths, meals, etc. There are no rules governing any individual's mobility or social life. We uphold the right of the disabled to take responsible control over their own lives. Disabled people do have special medical needs. Nurses, attendants and physicians who work with them should have this specialized knowledge. The Atlantis attendant staff is trained in areas of special health concern such as skin, bladder and bowel care, and routine medical needs. Atlantis makes full use of existing medical facilities, primarily the Denver General Health System. We are oriented toward rehabilitative activities and any person who has the desire for rehabilitation is given the opportunity to explore it. Many who were diagnosed at an early age as unrehabilitatable have shown tremendous progress when allowed access to therapists and equipment. It is our belief that any disabled person should have the right to choose where and how s/he wants to live. We believe that the same monies that are provided to house someone in an institution should be made available to those who wish to live independently. We are working to this end. At the present time, an institution in Colorado receives upwards of $600.00 a month in tax money to provide custodial care for a ‘patient’. That same person, once out of an institution, is eligible for maximum public assistance Payments of $402.00 a month to support her/himself and purchase attendant services. Many receive less than the full amount. We can find no valid justification for this huge discrepancy which results in the taxpayer supporting the highly lucrative nursing home industry and discourages the disabled and elderly from pursuing independent and meaningful lives. Our philosophy envelopes the ideas of individual liberty and opportunity, and we are aware of the process that must take place. Liberation from the stagnation of institutional life needs to be coupled with a viable process by which disabled persons can integrate themselves into society as self-fulfilled, independent citizens. It is our hope at Atlantis that by bringing disabled persons together, they can, through shared energy and experience, teach and support each other in achieving freedom and growth.
ADAPT (119)
Billings Gazette 6/15/83 Disabled learn persuasion tactics by ROGER CLAWSON, of the Gazette Staff Disabled persons have a right to ride public buses, and — with a bit of political savvy - they can enforce that right. That was the message Wade Blank, a Denver handicapped association activist, brought the Montana Independent Living Project conference in Billings Tuesday. Blank said it would cost $180,000 to equip Billings’s Met transit system buses with wheelchair lifts. The federal government would pay 80 percent of that cost. Blank said public buildings have been made accessible to handicapped persons, public transportation should also be accessible. He outlined how his group, the Atlantis Community, fought to make the Denver bus system provide wheelchair lifts and suggested tactics to those who would make the Met accessible to handicapped: * Lobby for support. In Denver, Blank said, major churches endorsed the Atlantis crusade. * Build public awareness. Because handicapped people are unable to ride the buses, they are never seen by bus drivers or transit officials. Blank suggested putting a person in a wheelchair on every bus to spend the day riding and handing out literature calling for equal access. * Lawsuits may be needed to force public officials to explain how federal money, given with certain strings attached, has been spent. * Serve notice that you won’t be bought off with special transportation systems. “They do not run special buses for blacks,” Blank said, "they should not be allowed to segregate the handicapped.” Participants of the conference noted that the only transportation available to the handicapped in Billings is furnished by Special Transportation Inc. (STI), a private, non-profit corporation that provides transportation for the elderly and handicapped under contract. Use of STI by handicapped adults is confined to trips for medical appointments.
ADAPT (148)
Name of newspaper illegible Los Angeles Times? November 19,1984 Handicapped Stage Protests to Publicize Transportation Needs by Miles Harvey, Times Staff Writer PHOTO: Mary Frampton / Los Angeles Times A tidy looking woman in pants and a vest, with a slight smile on her face, sits in a manual wheelchair on a bus. She is sitting in the accessible doorway, the access symbol visible on the side of the doorway. Below and beneath her is a metal panel, like the barrier on some lifts that keeps the person from rolling off the front of the lift. Caption reads: Barbara Trigg rides a hydraulic lift onto a Los Angeles bus. Article reads: Washington -- It was a scene reminiscent of the 1960s civil rights demonstrations as angry protesters chanted slogans, picketed the White House and stopped traffic before they were finally dragged away by police. And the series of confrontations that ended with 27 arrests last month seemed to come down to a similar central issue— the right to sit on a bus, to have full access to public transportation. There was one striking difference, however. Unlike Rosa Parks and the black civil rights activist who battered down the Jim Crow barriers in the South, these protesters were in wheelchairs, and their goal was equal access for the physically handicapped. “It's a civil right to be able to ride public transportation," said Julia Haraksin, a wheelchair-bound Los Angeles resident who participated in the demonstrations. “In the ‘60s, the blacks had to ride in the back—and we can't even get on the buses." New, Radical Tactics Organizations representing handicapped persons long have urged Washington to require that new buses and rail systems built with funds from the Department of Transportation's Urban Mass Transportation Administration be equipped to accommodate handicapped riders. But Haraksin and other handicapped individuals like her now are beginning to press the old arguments with new, more radical tactics. Frustrated by years of negotiating, lobbying in Washington, going through the courts and staging non-confrontational protests, some members of the handicapped community now are resorting more actively to confrontations and civil disobedience. Thus, early in October, 100 members of a newly formed coalition called American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit confronted a national meeting of city transportation heads here, using the kind of civil disobedience tactics used 30 years earlier by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Protesters were arrested when they blocked entrances and buses of those attending the American Public Transit Assn. convention. The strategy was to physically be a barrier because handicapped people have to face barriers all their lives," Wade Blank, a founder of Denver-based ADAPT said. Calling the protests here " Selma," leaders of ADAPT claimed victory and promised that their struggle has only begun. They already are focusing their efforts on what they hope will be a larger demonstration at the next meeting of the American Public Transportation Assn. a year from now in Los Angeles. But they and their cause may be in for a tough battle. Their opposition comes from the Reagan Administration, from many city governments and even from within the handicapped community. And as public attention focuses on the underlying budget choices involved, the opposition may swell with the addition of taxpayers concerned about the possible costs of a national full-access program. ADAPT argues that a legal right to full access for the handicapped already exists. Federal law states that Urban Mass Transportation Administration funds — which account for about 80% of the costs of new and replacement equipment in most municipal transportation systems—cannot be spent on programs that discriminate against, or exclude, the handicapped. The law does not make clear, however, whether handicapped persons must be provided with access to regular bus lines or whether they can instead be provided with alternative transportation systems. Nor does it indicate who should make that decision. Cities Make Decisions Current Transportation Department policy, which is strongly supported by the American Public Transportation Assn., allows each city to make its own decision on what type of transportation it will provide for the handicapped. This is in sharp contrast with Carter Administration policy, which in 1979 interpreted federal regulation to mean full access. Members of ADAPT, opposing the separate-but-equal philosophy of paratransit argue that it does not meet the needs of the handicapped and that it is inherently discriminatory. "It segregates the disabled people from the able-bodied community," Mike Auberger, an organizer for ADAPT, said. Because paratrasit requires advanced scheduling [unreadable] a ride is needed, he said, “you have to schedule your life according to the system. No one else has to do that. That shows the inequality right there." He and other members of ADAPT contend that because of long waiting lists for paratransit, some cities refuse to offer the service to new users - thus cutting off thousands of handicapped persons from any public transportation. Transit authorities, on the other hand, argue that full access can be too expensive, given the low percentage of handicapped riders in many cities. Lift-fitted buses cost an estimated $8,000 to $10,000 more than regular buses. Furthermore, lift systems are often unreliable and time-consuming to operate and maintain, transit administrators say. In Denver, for example, the transportation district has spent $63 million to purchase or retrofit buses with lifts. 80% of which was paid for by the federal government, according to spokesman Gene Towne. Since it started mainline access in 1982, the district has spent close to $1 million in maintenance of the lifts and expects to spend an additional $900,000 this year. Yet of the district's total annual ridership of 38 million, only 12,000 use the lifts, according to Towne. ADAPT counters that the issue is not cost but civil liberties. “In America we have a way of hiding, our prejudices with pragmatism," said Blank, a Presbyterian minister and veteran of the civil rights and anti-war movements of the 1960s who now supports handicapped activists. Variety of Approaches Across the country, cities are using a variety of approaches to the problems of providing mass transit for the handicapped. In Los Angeles, mainline access is required by state law. Although 1,850 of the Southern California Rapid Transit District‘s 2,400 buses are fitted with wheelchair lifts some local advocates charge that the RTD gives only "lip service" to access, complaining of broken lifts, drivers who do not know how to use the equipment or refuse to do so and an overall lack of commitment to providing access. The system provides only about 1,400 rides a month according to the RTD. Handicapped activists charge that the low ridership is attributable to the system's poor management. There were and are people in the operation department (of the RTD) back there who were and are opposed to the idea of access from day one," Dennis Cannon, a Washington-based expert who helped to plan the RTD's access program in the 1970s said. But in the last six months, the RTD has made "a major effort" to overcome the problem, according to RTD General Manager John A. Dyer. The system boosted its fiscal year 1985 budget for handicapped service by $3 million, to $4.9 million, to provide for a program to educate drivers and upgrade the quality of equipment and service. In Oakland, half the city's 800 buses are lift-equipped and all of the Alameda — Contra Costa Transit District's new buses will be lift-equipped. Seattle’s Services In Seattle, 570 of 1,100 buses are accessible to the handicapped, providing about 5,900 rides a month. The Municipality of Metropolitan Seattle also contracts with private groups to supply paratransit bus and half-fare cab service, providing a total of 8,400 rides a month in Denver. 432 of the city's 744 buses are lift- or ramp-equipped, providing more than 1,000 rides per month. The city also uses 13 vans and small buses in a paratransit system that provides 3,200 rides a month. In New York City, where an estimated 35% of all the transit passengers in the country use Metropolitan Transportation Authority vehicles each day. half of the city's 4,333 buses are fitted with lifts. The city has no figures on how many handicapped riders use the system, but one official calls the number minuscule. A new state law calls for $40 million over the next eight years to retrofit “in the neighborhood of 30" subway stops for handicapped use, according to a transit authority official. In addition the law will increase the percentage of lift-equipped buses to 65% of the fleet, as well as provide a paratransit system in the city by 1988. Minneapolis-St. Paul uses 45 paratransit buses and contracts with private cab companies to carry handicapped persons in all, the city provides 40.000 trips a month. None of Chicago's 2.400 regular buses are fitted with lifts. Instead the city provides 42 paratransit buses, which offer 12,000 rides a month. Additionally, 14 of the city's subway stops have been retrofitted for handicapped access and 300 of Chicago's 1,100 subway cars are accessible. If there is a diversity of approaches to the problem, there is also a diversity of views on the militant new tactics used by ADAPT and its supporters. The views of the handicapped people are all over the lot on what type of transport they'd like," Bob Batchelder, counsel for the APTA, said. But transit specialist Cannon, himself a wheelchair user, counters: “I'm talking to disabled people who wouldn't do what ADAPT does ... but who support what they are doing and think it needs being done." Whether ADAPT's controversial style will work remains an open question. While no negotiations are scheduled, ADAPT leaders vow to continue to harass association meetings. But in Los Angeles, the RTD's Dyer indicated that he hopes demonstrations will be replaced at next year's convention with “serious dialogue and discussion of the issues." "It’s a new thing for the disabled to see themselves with power," ADAPT's Auberger said, "but it's also a new experience for the powers that be."
ADAPT (16)
The Denver Post - Sunday June 1, 1975 PHOTO by John Prieto: A woman (Linda Chism) sits in a wheelchair with her legs extended out in front of her and covered by a blanket. Her shoulders are covered by a jacket. She has a lap board on her chair and her purse/bag is resting on it. She is looking ahead. To her left sits a man (Glenn Kopp) in a wheelchair. He has longish hair, a goatee and is wearing glasses. He looks down slightly, as if listening. In the front bottom corner of the picture someone's arm is visible. Caption reads: Linda Chism and Glenn Kopp discuss Independent-Living Idea They are in living room of apartment at the Las Casitas complex. [Headline] Independence from Nursing Homes - Atlantis' Handicapped Move to New Life by Pat Afzal On the surface, this Sunday is just a moving day for eight Denver area young men and women. Underneath, however, the day emerges as a first, precious taste of freedom for them. They are severely handicapped and will move out of nursing homes Sunday into their own apartments and have a crack at independent living. Sunday will be, oh .... like Christmas,” says wheelchair-bound Glenn Kopp, co-executive director of the Atlantis Community, Inc. The group is leasing the apartments where the young adults will live. Linda Chism, Atlantis' treasurer-accountant, likens the moving experience to “a flower opening up. We don't know how it's going to work out for sure. Things will sort of evolve." Their excitement seems normal because they're helping others embark on a new experience. Then they begin to talk about why the independent-living idea got going. And their comments harden into strong indictments against the institutional way of life for the young handicapped. "You know about civil rights?," Kopp asks a reporter. "Well, a handicapped person in an institution has no civil rights." "That statement about race, creed and color - well, it doesn't apply to handicapped people. We're left out of it." Kopp, who was worked in a Denver area nursing home said that when residents there went against the rules, a punishment was to take their electric wheel chairs away. “That's (the chairs) your freedom, you’re movement. Without it, you can't get around." [Subheading] Rule Ridiculed He ridiculed a rule that said the handicapped had to be in bed by 9 p.m. “Why should a grown man have to go to bed at 9 o’clock?" he asks. “It's a so very dehumanizing way to live, to say the least,” Ms. Chism adds. “You’re without privacy. All your dignity is just gone. You're not recognized as a person. You're a patient and that's it.” Nursing homes "like a lot of young people around, tooling around in their wheel chairs,” Kopp says. “lt adds an air of something nicer than just a lot of people sitting around.” By the same token, there isn't a lot of willingness to give the young people the freedom they feel and need, Kopp says. Those who are “lucky enough to have a taste of living normally really get depressed. It can be a very sad thing." It was soon after Kopp stopped working for the nursing home in Denver that he and a friend — Wade Blank — decided that “there's gotta be a better way to live. There has to be some better options." They slowly began to attract verbal, but not much monetary, support for their idea and Atlantis Community, Inc., was born. Eventually the group wants to build a 140-unit apartment complex for the severely handicapped. Right now, however, their first project is the seven apartment units in Las Casitas complex on Denver's west side where the eight young people will be moving Sunday. The apartments are on the western edge of a larger apartment complex in the 1200 block of Federal Boulavard. Credit for helping to make Atlantis’ dream a reality goes to Dr. Henry A. Foley, state director of social services, and John Helm of the Denver Housing Authority, Kopp said. “We went in cold to Dr. Foley, and he got us $3,000 seed money to apply to a larger grant," Kopp said. The grant, from the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation, made possible almost $20,000 in renovations at the Las Casitas apartments. Helm told them about the apartment vacancies. The new tenants will live on welfare and social service payments, and visiting nurses and on-site attendants will help take care of their medical and personal needs. On July 1, six other tenants will move in. Those slated for the Sunday move are “frightened, understandably,” Ms. Chism says. “When you've lived in an nursing home much of your life, you’re naturally apprehensive about living on your own." She said police were worried about the safety of the tenants because the apartments are in a higher-crime area. “But they (police) don't realize that in an institution, you don’t own anything for very long because it’s stolen," Kopp said. [Headline] Meetings Encouraging Meetings with a tenant union at Las Casitas have been encouraging, he added, and residents already living there have welcomed the idea of their new neighbors. The problem now is for Atlantis Community to stay alive financially so other young handicapped adults also can experience the freedom of independent living. And there are immediate problems like finding things such as kitchen utensils, bed linen and furniture to make the Las Casitas like home. But optimism about the future is apparent. “When you think of how far we've come in a year," Ms. Chism says. “I'd say there's a lot more to come from Atlantis."
ADAPT (173)
The Washington Post, Friday, September 28, 1934 PHOTO (by Harry Naltchayan, The Washington Post): Three men in wheelchairs (left to right - Claude Holcomb, Bob Conrad, and Mike Auberger) discuss something as they block two Metro buses sitting next to each other. Caption reads: Handicapped demonstrators block Metrobuses on Pennsylvania Avenue NW. [Headline] Buses Captured In Demonstration By Handicapped By Ronald Kessler, Washington Post Staff Writer A dozen handicapped protesters, some in wheelchairs and others walking with crutches or canes, stopped rush-hour traffic in front of the White House yesterday by "capturing" seven Metrobuses. The hour-long protest was aimed at demonstrating the lack of access to buses that handicapped persons endure both locally and nationwide. The demonstrators agreed to release the buses—by abandoning their position in front of the vehicles—only after Metro General Manager Carmen E. Turner agreed to meet with them. The demonstrators. representing a national group called American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit, said they wanted all new Metrobuses to be equipped with power equipment that lifts wheelchairs into buses. AIso, they said, they want the Department of Transportation to allocate more funds for equipping buses nationwide with the lifts. "We say it's a civil right, just as they denied black people the right to get on a bus and now allow them access." said Mike Auberger of Denver, a spokesman for the group. “It's a right like being able to go to school." Presently, Metro schedules a limited number of runs with buses equipped with lifts, or dispatches the buses if a handicapped person requests on the day before. The protesters said a lift costs $8,000 on a $180,000 new bus. an amount they said is far below the cost of an air conditioner. "I’ve called for buses, and they break down said Ronald L. Smith, who sat in a wheelchair in front of the Old Executive Office Building. "We want all the buses to be for the handicapped." Beverly Silverburg, director of public affairs for Metro, said last night that the group will meet with Assistant General Manager Theodore Weigle and Turner "will probably meet with the group." The protest began at 1:15 p.m., when the demonstrators announced to reporters that they were going to surround the next bus that stopped in front of the White House. It happened to be one marked "Brookland." Several demonstrators lay down on the street or leaned against the front of the bus while supporting themselves on crutches. A second contingent blocked another bus that had just pulled up behind the first. "What's going on?" Theodore R. Wright, the driver of the Brookland bus, said to no one in particular. The protesters told him they wanted to meet with Turner to present their grievances. As riders disembarked, Wright called his dispatcher. "I'm looking at two buses that are blocked," he said "They want Carmen Turner." Wright said he once drove a bus equipped with a power lift for six months and never had a handicapped rider. But he added, "l sympathize with these people. Probably they have some legitimate beefs." As the impasse dragged on, the protesters took over a third bus as it was trying to pass the first two. Police persuaded the protesters to let it go, but they became more agitated and began blocking buses across the street in front of Lafayette Square. By 5 p.m., police had cordoned off the section of Pennsylvania Avenue NW in front of the White House, disrupting rush-hour traffic in all directions. Metro supervisors came and went, and one protester was taken to George Washington Hospital after he fell off his wheelchair. By 5:30 p.m., the protesters had corralled seven buses, would-be passengers were complaining that they could not find a bus, and bus drivers were lining the streets. At 5:35 pm., D.C. Police Lt. W.R. Sarvis passed the word that Turner had agreed to the meeting. The demonstrators uttered whoops of joy and hugged each other. “No confrontations, no problems," said Sarvis. The protesters said they also plan to present their demands to the American Public Transit Association, which meets here Sunday.
ADAPT (1795)
Mainstream Magazine, April 1993 issue [This article continues in ADAPT 1974, but is included here in its entirety for easier reading.] Photo: Wade Blank, in sneakers, jeans and an ADAPT T-shirt over a long sleeved shirt, walks with other ADAPTers in a march down a city street. Beside him is George Roberts, behind George is Diane Coleman and behind her is Anita Cameron. Behind Wade's left side is Chris Hronis, and behind him Bill Henning carries a banner. Caption for picture reads: Wade Blank takes to the streets of San Francisco with ADAPT in October 1992 Title: Wade Blank, 1940 to 1993 Co founder of Adapt [sic] Pursued A Vision Of Justice For People With Disabilities By Laura Hershey When a college friend dared Wade Blank to march with Martin Luther King. Jr. in Selma, Alabama. Wade didn't know what to expect. However, the experience imbued him with a vision of civil rights which he would never forget. Later. working in the youth wing of a nursing home, he understood clearly that the same issues, freedom. equality, and justice, were at stake for people with severe disabilities. Throughout his life, Wade Blank strove to obtain independent living opportunities and equal access for people who had lone been denied these basic civil rights. Wade died at age 52 on Feb. l5. I993. in a swimming accident in Todos Santos, Mexico, where he was vacationing with his family. He was trying to save his 8 year old son. Lincoln. An undertow made the rescue impossible; both Wade and Lincoln drowned. Wade is survived by his wife, Mollie; his daughter. Caitlin, 6; and his adopted daughter, Heather, 22, who has a disability. All members of the Blank family were actively involved in the disability rights movements that Wade helped launch. On Feb. 2l. a memorial service drew 1,100 people to Denver's Radisson Hotel. the site of the first national protest by American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit, or ADAPT. the grass roots, direct action disability rights movement Wade co-founded. Wade and Lincoln were remembered as spirited, loving people committed to social change. A neighbor remembered Wade helping her fix a broken lock late one night; she recalled Lincoln leading other children in a rousing chant during a make-believe demonstration on his front porch. Wade's colleague Shel Trapp quipped. “lf Heaven is inaccessible. God is in big trouble." Wade believed in the leadership potential of even the most severely disabled activists. He pushed his followers to take charge of the movement, even when it would have been easier to dominate it himself. His ability to alternate between a directive role and a supportive role from manager to attendant. from mentor to messenger kept Wade close to his people. lt also had a tactical value: At a 1991 demonstration in Colorado. police were vainly searching for someone to hold responsible for several dozen unstoppable wheelchair wielding protesters. An officer asked Wade. “Are you in charge here?" "No." Wade answered. “I just help people go to the bathroom." Drawing on his background as a pastor of a diverse and active parish, Wade taught the value of community. He brought people together across disabilities, classes, races, ideologies and other differences. ln ADAPT. Wade created a true community. welcoming anyone committed to the movement's vision of justice. During national actions, people from across the country exchange experiences and expertise. offer each other encouragement and strength, meet friends and even start romances. Just getting to the sites of national protests requires enormous energy expenditures and a myriad of logistical details for people with disabilities, many of whom use wheelchairs. On long. grueling caravan drives across country. Wade met those needs with humor and gentleness. He drove tirelessly, navigated, did attendant care, pumped gas, made fast food runs, hauled suitcases and battery chargers, repaired wheelchairs, even brought coffee to everyone’s rooms in the mornings. When we grew exhausted and short-tempered. he buoyed us with affectionate teasing and terrible, recycled puns. He kept the troops moving, both on the road and during protests. with encouragement, bad jokes. and calm confidence. Protests will be tougher without Wade's bold creativity, irrepressible sense of humor, and reassuring presence. But the movement won’t die with Wade. He knew that. “King‘s organization’s mistake was that they hung it all around his neck,” he told an interviewer last November. “What happened to the movement? It lost its definition. King gave it its definition. If I would get knocked off tomorrow or die of a heart attack, it wouldn’t slow us down a bit. We know what we’re about, and the movement would go on with the same intensity.” In 1971, Rev. Wade Blank arrived in Denver after 10 years of preaching and organizing in the Midwest. He had graduate degrees in divinity and was an ordained Presbyterian minister. But his radical activities had gotten him in trouble with the church authorities and he had been fired from his parish. His experiences had included hosting meetings of the Kent State chapter of Students for a Democratic Society (SDS); helping Vietnam War draftees flee to Canada; and organizing African American youths to demand community water and sewage systems in conservative Twinsburg Heights, OH. Wade was burned out and not sure what he wanted to do next. He ended up at Denver’s Heritage House nursing home, where he tried to make institutional life bearable for young disabled people. He quickly realized that such confinement could never be acceptable. He was fired from his job, but stayed in touch with several of the young residents. Eventually he helped 11 of them move into their own apartments. At first, Wade himself provided all his clients’ attendant care, until finally the State of Colorado agreed to fund home health care services for people living independently. This was the beginning of the Atlantis Community (named for a forgotten continent), today a thriving independent living center in Denver. Even in their newly won freedom, the Atlantis founders discovered barriers to independence all around them. Public buses were inaccessible, so the community members became activists. One July 5, 1978, with Wade’s support and guidance, 19 disabled people blocked buses overnight in the busy intersection at Colfax and Broadway to demonstrate their demand for lifts on buses. Protests continued until, in June 1983, Denver committed itself to a fully accessible bus system. Last summer, the city laid a plaque at the Colfax-Broadway intersection, engraved with the 19 activists’ names. Characteristically downplaying his own key role in the demonstration, Wade asked that his name not appear on the plaque. Wade once described his role this way: “That’s what my job is, to assist my people in gaining the power to make change." Throughout his years of service to “my people,” Wade worked to build strength and leadership among disability activists. Emboldened by success, the Denver activists carried their demands for bus access to the entire nation. Wade‘s vigorous encouragement and organizing skills had helped to transform a group of powerless nursing home "patients" into a band of effective revolutionaries. Now that same savvy spirit found a warm reception among disabled people who were tired of segregation and exclusion. A new movement was born, with the fitting acronym ADAPT, or American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation. The first national ADAPT protest took place at the Radisson in October, 1983. The nation's transit officials were meeting at the hotel when disabled protesters blocked every entrance. Similar demonstrations throughout the country, involving the blocking of hotels, office buildings, and buses, focused public attention on the fact that access to transportation was a basic civil right denied to people with disabilities. Subsequent protests refined ADAPT ’s brand of protest. With his 1960s civil rights experience, Wade taught his followers how to stage protests that were non violent but direct and confrontational. In the hands of people with severe disabilities, these tactics were astonishingly effective. ADAPT activists baffled police officers, and filled jail cells, in dozens of cities. The public, and ultimately the powers that be, had to respond. The idea of people with severe disabilities, and their allies (including Wade), risking arrest again and again some as many as 20 or 30 times proved not only impressive, but persuasive. After nearly a decade of such protests, ADAPT achieved its goals for the nation’s transit systems. The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) included mandates for bus and rail services. All new bus purchases must now be lift equipped, just as Wade and his cohorts had demanded. But before it passed, the ADA became stalled in the U.S. Senate and was in danger of being defeated or weakened by amendments. Wade organized a “Wheels of Justice” campaign that included three days of marching, demonstrating, and civil disobedience. Some 150 people were arrested in the Capitol rotunda. Within a few weeks, the ADA passed the full Senate, and was signed into law by President Bush on July 26, 1990. But Wade and ADAPT spent little time celebrating. They knew there was still much to be done. With over a million people still languishing in nursing homes, ADAPT immediately launched its new campaign, demanding the shifting of federal Medicare/Medicaid funds from nursing homes to in home attendant services that would allow people disabled by birth, accident, illness, or age to live independently. The meaning of the acronym, ADAPT, did just that it adapted. The letters now stand for American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today. The old battle cry, “We Will Ride!,“ was replaced with a new one: “Free Our People NOW!” In a recent interview, Wade said, “My whole commitment in life is to eradicate those nursing homes, to destroy them, bring them down. We will.” He didn’t live to see that goal realized, but he shared that vision with hundreds of others. In the process he helped create a movement that will continue the fight to “Free Our People.” Laura Hershey, freelance writer and poet, is an ADAPT activist. Inserted in box: A memorial will be held May 9, I993 at the Lincoln Memorial as part of an ADAPT action in Washington DC. Contributions may be sent to The Family of Wade Blank Memorial Fund at The First National Bank of Denver, 300 S. Federal Blvd., Denver, CO 80206. A trust fund has also been established in the name of Wade Blank. Contributions can be sent to Atlantis/ADAPT c/o Evan Kemp, 2500 Q St. N.W I21, Washington, DC 20007.
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Los Angeles Times 4/10/85 PHOTO by Vince Compagnone, Los Angeles Times: A Trailways bus sits surrounded by half a dozen or more people in wheelchairs. One man in a manual chair with a golf style cap sits alone at the back left corner of the bus. One the right side of the bus, closest to the camera are three other people in manual chairs. They appear to be talking with Bob Conrad and a few others up at the front right side of the bus, by the entrance. Renata Conrad is in the white coat. On the back of the bus is a sign that reads "Got a Group? Charter this Bus. 1-800-527-1566." Caption reads: Handicapped people surround a Trailways bus Saturday, delaying its departure by two hours. [Headline] Disabled People Block Bus at Terminal by Kathleen H. Cooley, Times Staff Writer About 20 disabled people blocked a Trailways bus for more than two hours Saturday at the downtown terminal until the terminal manager agreed to ask a company executive to meet with the disabled group concerning difficulties wheelchair-bound people have with bus travel. The group which represents American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation (ADAPT), was in town to meet with members of the American Public Transit Assn. today. Representatives of ADAPT said they want a legislation requiring all new buses operated by private companies such as Greyhound and Trailways to be equipped with wider doors, lifts and ramps. Most public transportation operators, including San Diego Transit, provide wheelchair lifts on at least some buses. ADAPT member Claude Holcom bought a ticket to Los Angeles, but when Trailways' personnel told him they would have to fold his wheelchair and carry him to his seat, Holcom declined to board the bus. "We don't think a person should have to be carried aboard a bus," said Wade Blank, one of the protest's organizers. “It's very dehumanizing. They’re taking away their legs." Blank and fellow ADAPT member Mike Auberger said the group is trying to draw attention to the frustrations of traveling by bus and being in a wheelchair. Although both Trailways and Greyhound buses are not equipped to handle wheelchairs, Blank said ADAPT met with Greyhound officials last week to discuss the possibility of fitting new buses with lifts. “This is a symbolic protest, just like the civil rights protests of the '60s, but we have the right to travel the same as anybody else," Blank said. "The wheelchair is like somebody's legs." The Los Angeles bus, with its two passengers, was scheduled to leave the C Street station at 4:15 p.m., but by the time terminal manager Fred Kroner arrived and negotiated with the ADAPT members, it was nearly 7 o'clock before it departed. The two passengers appeared surprised and baffled by the protest and by queries from members of the news media. One man opted to go to the Greyhound terminal two blocks away and catch another bus rather than wait out the protest. The other passenger, Mich Galloway, 23, said he was sympathetic to the group wanting equal access to buses and waited patiently until the protesters dispersed. “I see where they are coming from." Galloway said. "I hope something is done about it." After several phone calls to the Trailways corporate offices in Dallas proved fruitless. the ADAPT members agreed to accept from Koner the name, address and phone number of the company‘s public relations officer. who they intend to call Monday. "l really can't do anything about the situation. l'm just this terminal's manager." Koner said.
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Dallas Times Herald, Saturday Nov. 24, 1984 [Headline] Wheelchair activist adopt radical tactics Los Angeles Times WASHINGTON — It was a scene reminiscent of the 1960s civii rights demonstrations as angry protesters chanted slogans, picketed the White House and stopped traffic before they were finally dragged away by police. And the series of confrontations that ended with 27 arrests last month all seemed to come down to a similar central issue —- the right to sit on a bus, to have full access to public transportation. There was one striking difference, however. Unlike Rosa Parks and the black civil rights activists who battered down the Jim Crow barriers in the South, these protesters were in wheelchairs, and their goal was equal access for the physically handicapped. "It's a civil right to be able to ride public transportation," says Julia Haraksin, a wheelchair-bound Los Angeles resident who participated in the demonstrations. Organizations representing handicapped persons long have urged Washington to require that all new buses and rail systems built with funds from the Department of Transportation's Urban Mass Transportation Administration be equipped to accommodate handicapped riders. But Haraksin and other handicapped individuals are beginning to press the old arguments with more radical tactics. Frustrated by years of negotiating, lobbying in Washington, going through the courts and staging non-confrontational protests, some handicapped activists now are resorting to confrontations and civil disobedience. Thus, early in October, 100 members of a newly formed coalition called American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit confronted a national meeting of city transportation heads here, using the kind of civil disobedience tactics used 20 years earlier by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Protesters were arrested when they blocked entrances and buses of those attending the American Public Transit Association convention. “The strategy was to physically be a barrier because handicapped people have to face barriers all their lives," Wade Blank, a founder of Denver-based ADAPT, said. Calling the protests here “our Selma," leaders of ADAPT claimed a public relations victory and promised their struggle has only begun. They already are focusing their efforts on what they hope will be a larger demonstration at the next meeting of the American Public Transportation Association a year from now in Los Angeles. But their cause may be in for a tough battle. Their opposition comes from the Reagan administration, from many city governments and even from within the handicapped community. And as public attention focuses on the underlying budget choices involved, the opposition may swell with the addition of taxpayers concerned about the possible costs of a national full-access program. ADAPT argues a legal right to full access for the handicapped already exists. Federal law states Urban Mass Transportation Administration funds — which account for about 80 percent of the costs of the equipment in most municipal transportation systems —- cannot be spent on programs that discriminate against, or exclude, the handicapped. The law does not make clear, however, whether handicapped persons must be provided with access to regular bus lines or whether they can instead be provided with alternative transportation systems. Nor does it indicate who should make that decision. Current Department of Transportation policy, which is strongly supported by the American Public Transportation Association, allows each city to make its own decision on what type of transportation it will provide for the handicapped. This is in sharp contrast with Carter administration policy, which in 1979 interpreted federal regulations to mean full access. Members of ADAPT, opposing the separate-but-equal philosophy, argue that paratransit does not meet the needs of the handlcapped and is inherently discriminatory. “lt segregates the disabled people trom the able-bodied community," Mike Auberger, an organizer for ADAPT, said. Because paratransit requires advanced scheduling, sometimes weeks before a ride is needed, he said, “you have to schedule your life according to the transit system." Transit authorities, on the other hand, argue full access can be too expensive, given the low percentage of handicapped riders in many cities. Lift-fitted buses cost an estimated $8,000 to $10,000 more than regular buses. Furthermore, lift systems are often unreliable and time-consuming to operate and maintain, authorities add. In Denver, for example, the transportation district has spent $6.3 million to purchase or retrofit buses with lifts, 80 percent of which was paid for by the federal government, according to spokesman Gene Towne. Since it started mainline access in 1982, the district has spent close to $1 million in maintenance of the lifts and expects to spend an additional $900,000 this year. Yet only 12,000 of the district's 38 million riders use the lifts, according to Towne. ADAPT counters the issue is not cost but civil liberties. "In America, we have a way of hiding our prejudices with pragmatism," said Blank, a Presbyterian minister and veteran of the civil rights and anti-war movements of the 1960s who now supports handicapped activists. Across the country, cities are using a variety of approaches to the problems of providing mass transit for the handicapped. ln Los Angeles, mainline access is required by state law. Although 1,850 of the Southern California Rapid Transit District's 2,400 buses are fitted with wheelchair lifts, some local advocates charge that broken lifts, drivers who do not know how to use the equipment or refuse to do so and an overall lack of commitment to providing access limits the system. [Bottom of the page is torn so missing text is included in brackets, as it is just a guess.] In Seattle, 570 of 1,100 buses serve the handicapped, providing about 5,900 rides a month. [The] Municipality of Metropolitan Seattle also contracts with groups to supply paratransit [vans] and half-fare cab service, [providing] 8,400 rides a month. In Denver, 432 of the [city's] buses are lift- or ramp-[equipped] providing more than 1,00[0 rides] per month. The city also [uses] vans and small buses in a transit system that provides [x number of] rides a month. None of Chicago's 2,400 [mainline] buses is fitted with lifts. [Instead] the city provides 42 [paratransit] buses, which offer 12,000 [rides per] month.
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Denver Post, Issues, 10/6/85, no page number [Headline] Transit leaders to face protests from disabled By Jack Farrar Special to the Denver Post The American Public Transit Association will run into some political street theater when it rolls into Los Angeles today for its annual meeting. Waiting for the group will be a militant cast of handicapped individuals, including members of a Denver organization called Atlantis, who want full accessibility to the nation's public transportation system. As APTA delegates convene at the Westin Bonaventure Hotel, more than 100 people in wheelchairs – members of the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit – will be “marching” single-file from MacArthur Park, more than a mile away, to begin a week-long series of demonstrations. They won't have a parade permit. They haven't asked for one. Through such acts of civil disobedience, the demonstrators hope to force the APTA, public officials and the news media to think about what they consider to be the most pressing issue facing the handicapped: access to public transportation. One contingent of protesters will be led by Wade Blank, a 44-year-old Denverite who cut his activist teeth in the 1960s, marching with blacks in Alabama and peaceniks in Ohio. Access 'a right'[boldface] Blank is the founder and executive director of Atlantis, one of ADAPT's most militant member organizations. “Jobs and education don't mean much,” Blank argues, “if you can't take a bus to get there. Accessibility to public transportation – moving from one place to the other – should be a right, not just a consumer service.” For the past three years, ADAPT, largely under Blank's leadership, has demanded that APTA adopt total accessibility for the handicapped as an official policy rather than as an objective. Transit association officials have responded by citing numerous improvements made in service for the handicapped – improvements that the handicapped have applauded – and contends that total accessibility is financially impractical. “We have not ignored the handicapped,” says APTA Deputy Executive Director Albert Engelken. “Accessibility is a compelling issue. But total accessibility is an enormous undertaking, and with federal dollars shrinking, our resources are limited. In any case, it is not the role of an association like ours to establish policy.” Disabled activists, however, believe the costs of accessibility are distorted by the transportation industry. Moreover, they argue, the issue is civil rights, not economics. “Public transportation is a tax-supported system,” Blank says. “The handicapped pay taxes. It's as simple as that. How would the average taxpayer feel if he was denied access to a facility he paid for?” Long regarded as a quiet minority, disabled individual recently have added a more confrontational approach to their struggle for equality, and the man frequently in the front lines of that movement is Blank, whose long blond hair and granny glasses evoke the image of the 1960s activist. He encourages the handicapped to take to the streets when they feel their demands are being taken less than seriously. Members of Atlantis have made headlines locally and nationally with their tactics in Denver – chaining themselves to seats of fast food restaurants, occupying intersections that don't accommodate wheelchairs, and blocking the entrances to buildings with architectural barriers. Rules watered down [boldface] Progress in making public transportation available to the handicapped can be traced to the Urban Mass Transit Administration's adoption of Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act in 1979. [sic] Section 504 generally made it illegal to exclude any individual, by reason of handicap, from any program receiving federal dollars. UMTA's regulations stated that all new buses purchased with federal money must include wheelchair lifts and aimed for 50 percent of peak-hour accessibility on regular bus routes. RTD standards strict [boldface] The Regional Transportation District in metropolitan Denver has adopted accessibility standards that are more stringent than required. Even after Section 504 regulations were softened in 1981, RTD's board chose to maintain its commitment to provide 50 percent peak-hour accessibility on all routes, and 100 percent off-peak accessibility. And RTD will soon become the first public transit system in the United States to introduce wheelchair lifts on its larger, regional commuter buses. Despite such advances, Blank will not be satisfied until disabled individuals throughout the United States can board and ride a bus whenever and wherever the able-bodied do the same. “We simply want APTA, as the association which speaks for the public transportation industry, to declare its intention to make the system accessible. We know it will take time. But isn't this the country that put a man on the moon?”
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MAinstream magazine [No date] [This story continues in ADAPT 222, but is contained here in its entirety for reading ease.] [Headline] ADAPT takes the fast lane to make transit accessible By Michael Ervin San Antonio—The first indication that something was about to happen came when an oversized, stretch-limo of a van pulled up beside the Alamo and a wheelchair lift uncurled out of the back door. The colorful banner on the side of the van read: ACCESS FOR ALL. Six more people in wheelchairs were in another van parked in a lot down the street. As they proceeded down the sidewalk to join the demonstration in front of the Alamo the pedestrians stopped and looked them over. A parade of people in wheelchairs is bound to draw stares. But the expressions accompanying these stares were unique—welcoming, supportive, somewhat star struck. Maybe they knew they were coming. Before the 50 or so members of various chapters of American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit even arrived here there were stories in the media about previous ADAPT confrontations with the American Public Transit Association (APTA.) Television news showed footage of the mass arrests that occurred last October in Washington, D.C. when ADAPT members tried to force their way into the center where APTA was holding its annual convention. That's the kind of escalating media coverage Wade Blank likes to see. He’s the main force behind ADAPT. “We're becoming famous. When we had our first ADAPT meeting in Denver in 1982, our goal was to make the officials of any city we were coming to nervous. We wanted them to say, ‘No! Not here! We don’t want ‘em!’” They were certainly nervous in San Antonio. When a horde of people in wheelchairs showed up at the offices of the local transit authority for a noisy demonstration, the employees locked themselves in a large office as if they were afraid ADAPT was going to take them out one by one and shoot them. And when the march that began at the Alamo turned into an equally raucous occupation of the lobby of the posh hotel where APTA people were staying, hotel security had no idea what to do. And the bewildered looks of the innocent tourists were amusing. They’d certainly never seen anything like that before. “Seeing a bunch of disabled crazies blocking buses and doing things like that redefines everything everybody’s been conditioned to believe about the disabled," Blank says. This radical redefinition of what the disabled are (in the eyes of both the disabled and nondisabled) is what ADAPT is all about. And having stuffy APTA conferences and conventions as a backdrop helps make that point. APTA’s primary sin, according to ADAPT, is that it spent big bucks on a lawsuit that struck down the federal mandate that all fixed-route public buses be lift-equipped. ADAPT sees equal transit access as the most basic civil right. “It's the same segregation as when blacks had to sit in the back of the bus or yield their seats to whites. Except it’s even worse,” says Blank. “The disabled can’t even get on the bus.” By using APTA as a symbol of the stifling paternalism that keeps the disabled in a position of dependency, ADAPT makes the immorality of inaccessible public transit quite clear. *** Wade Blank is an ordained minister who never goes to church. “It’s in the true Jesus tradition. He was kicked out of the synagogue and never went back.” Blank worked in a nursing home for a few years after seminary. It frustrated him to see the disabled friends he made there stuck there simply because they had no place else to go. So in 1976 he and some others began Atlantis, an independent living center in Denver. ADAPT was born of Atlantis. Blank says Atlantis likes to “do the impossible” in terms of working with clients who have the deepest holes of dependency to dig out of. Frank, a man with cerebral palsy who was part of the ADAPT Denver caravan to San Antonio, was sprung by Atlantis in 1976 from a nursing home he had been in since 1934. Another woman began feeding herself for the first time when she became part of Atlantis. She was always physically able to. Her mother just didn't want her making a mess. Another woman had never seen a head of lettuce. Her salads had always come to her prepared. It’s rather stunning seeing people who were mired in the world of please and thank you traveling around the country, blocking buses and maybe getting arrested. It’s gotten ADAPT and Atlantis in trouble with irate relatives. The father of a woman arrested for blocking buses in Denver told Wade that since he was a reverend he must be brainwashing his daughter into joining his cult, just like Jim Jones. He said he was going to tell the newspapers so they could investigate. But Blank says, “All we’re saying to people in Atlantis and ADAPT is, ‘You are an important person.’ I just tell them (the irate relatives) that people get excited when they see that they are important and that they are expected to be somebody.” In 1978, it became clear that the mission of Atlantis could never be fully accomplished as long as Denver’s public transit system was totally inaccessible. What good was it to set someone up in an accessible apartment if they couldn’t move beyond it? They might as well have still been in the nursing home. So the Atlantis people took to the streets of Denver. They blocked buses. They held sit-ins in the transit authority offices. They got arrested. But four years later, they won and Denver is on its way to full access. [Bordered text box in center of page: “We created a drama and let it unfold . . .I guess we raised consciousness.”] The next year, APTA made the mistake of holding its convention in Denver. The target was too tempting for Atlantis to resist. Here was the personification of everything Atlantis opposed right on its step and begging to be hit. Atlantis formed a permanent transportation component call ADAPT. They organized confrontations around the convention and vowed to follow APTA everywhere until it passed ADAPT ’s resolution renouncing the lawsuit and the damage it did. These confrontations would also provide a focal point and a training ground for activists from other cities so they could form their own ADAPT chapters. Mike Auberger of Atlantis is a quadriplegic resulting from a bobsled accident during the 1972 Olympic time trials. “When we started ADAPT, we were a bunch of crazy nuts. A year later, we were a possibility. Now, we’re a reality. We started in one city and here we are about 20 cities. We must be selling something everybody needs.” The hope is that the feeling of self-importance that inspired the disabled of Denver will be as infectious in San Antonio and in cities all over America. ADAPT paved the way in San Antonio by creating a three-day headache for the police and transit authority and forcing them to take the issue very seriously. They also permanently etched the issue on the minds of the people of San Antonio with pictures on the front page of the newspaper of disabled people blocking APTA tour buses. “We created a drama and let it unfold,” Blank says. “I was talking to a reporter and I said, ‘I guess we raised consciousness.’ She said, ‘Boy did you! That’s all this town is talking about.’ ” “Now you can’t say that about too many political movements today.” But even if it doesn’t play in San Antonio, Auberger sees what happened there as another battle won. “Again we took on APTA and beat them. You’ve got this guy in a $300 suit and a designer tie with his initials and a soup stain on it. More and more people are starting to see APTA that way.” If success can be judged by police reaction, ADAPT is accomplishing a lot. Knowing ADAPT ’s penchant for blocking buses, the police routed buses away from areas with high ratios of wheelchair-users. They obviously did their homework by talking to police in other cities who had to deal with ADAPT. A television news report even told of how San Antonio police intelligence photographers were following ADAPT members around. And it’s clear that transit authorities are taking ADAPT very seriously too. The next target is Los Angeles, where APTA will hold its convention in October. ADAPT has obtained a copy of a private memo of the Southern California Rapid Transit District that speaks of the authority’s plans to spend $10,000 to $15,000 to “handle vast numbers of wheelchair bound people” who will be coming to town. “While confrontations cannot be stopped, they can be blunted.” It speaks of how the RTD is “searching for ways to diffuse or ward off demonstrations,” perhaps by pacifying everyone for a few days with a conference on accessible transit [ibid]. “Can we take control by creating a hospitality center for the handicapped?” the memo says. Who can resist such an opportunity. ADAPT is on its way.
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THE HANDICAPPED COLORADAN Vol. 8, No. 4, Boulder, Colorado, November 1985 [This article continues in ADAPT 115 but the story is included here in its entirety for easier reading.] PHOTO on center-right of the page and shows several people in wheelchairs (including Larry Ruiz looking away on left, as you face the bus, and George Florum on right in black ADAPT T-shirt holding a coffee and a cigarette) in front of a large bus. One person stands in front of the bus holding a scarecrow-like effigy of a person in one hand and something else in the other. A person in a white shirt is seated in the driver's seat. Another person similarly dressed is standing next to him. Above them behind the windshield is a destination type sign reading “EASY.” Caption: DEMONSTRATORS BLOCKED BUSES in Long Beach during the fourth day of the Los Angeles demonstration. One protestor (center) holds up an effigy representing the American Public Transit Association. Police arrived later and made several arrests. Demonstrators said the Long Beach police treated them properly. [Headline] Access showdown in L.A. Leads to massive arrests In a scene reminiscent of the black civil rights marches of the 1960s, some 215 people in wheelchairs rolled down Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles on Sunday, Oct. 7, to protest the lack of accessible mainline public transit in the United States. ' Chanting "We will ride!" and carrying inflammatory placards, the single-file column snaked its way 1.7 miles from the MacArthur Park staging area to the Bonaventure Hotel where the American Public Transit Association (APTA) was holding its national convention. Although the demonstrators had been denied a parade permit, police made no attempt to halt the march and routed traffic around the procession. However, the hands-off attitude disappeared once the column of wheelchair militants reached the hotel. As hotel security personnel blocked the only wheelchair-accessible elevator that gave access to the main lobby, several of the demonstrators pulled themselves from their wheelchairs and threw their bodies in front of the escalators, vowing to prevent anyone else from entering or leaving the hotel. The disabled demonstrators shouted "Access now! Access now!" while police deliberated their next move. Finally, after an hour, the police moved in. Eight demonstrators, including one woman, were arrested for “refusing to leave the scene of a riot," according to a police spokesperson. But they didn't go without a fight. George Florom of Colorado Springs thrashed about so hard that it took three officers to subdue him. One of the officers claimed that Florom kicked and bit him, During the scuffle, police said one of the demonstrators grabbed an officer's gun. Florom was removed to a specially equipped police van. He was soon joined by Edith Harris of Hartford, Conn, a veteran of other APTA demonstrations, who had been arrested during the San Antonio APTA protest. Harris had tried several times during the day to get the police to arrest her, even to the point of throwing shredded ADAPT literature in the street and demanding that police arrest her. Police merely removed her motorized chair from the street and picked up the paper, But when Harris threw herself on an escalator, the police moved in and escorted her to a waiting police van. Police and demonstrators differed as to how well the department handled the arrests. "We look bad no matter what we do," Sgt. Bill Tiffany said. A police spokesperson said the department had medical personnel on hand and tried to provide for the special needs of those arrested. That wasn't the case, according to Wade Blank of Denver, one of the founders of the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT), which helped organize the Los Angeles demonstration as it has similar protests in Denver (1983), Washington, D.C. (1984), and San Antonio, Texas (1985). "The police were real nice until we got to the Bonaventure," Blank said. “But it was a real bad situation at the hotel. The cops turned into real pigs. They wouldn't let us use the hotel restroom. Some of them laughed at a lot of disabilities of the demonstrators, and a few of them pulled their clubs and threatened us with them." Blank said he learned that the officers who pulled their clubs were later given reprimands. Lou Nau, chairman of the Disability Rights Committee of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), was also critical of how the police handled the arrests. Nau said that Mike Auberger, a quadriplegic community organizer for the Atlantis Community in Denver, was not allowed to use a bathroom for eight hours, causing hyperreflexia, while others who were arrested were not allowed to take necessary medications although they repeatedly explained the danger this might cause. Four men were handcuffed behind their backs and then left for up to five hours in their chairs in police vans, according to Nau. Of the eight arrested, Harris was released that same night and five of the men by the following afternoon. The other two men were not released until Tuesday morning. Some 53 disabled protestors maintained a night-long vigil outside the county jail. The police later issued this statement: “It must be stressed that the Los Angeles Police Department has repeatedly tried to meet with demonstration leaders in the attempt to provide legal alternatives to accomplish their objectives and avoid the distasteful necessity of arresting handicapped citizens." To that end, Jack Day, a board member of the Southern California Rapid Transit District (RTD flew to Denver earlier in the year to [print completely faded] in an attempt to talk the organization out of civil disobedience. Blank was one of those who met with Day. "We told him we wouldn't use civil disobedience if the (Southern California RTD) agreed to introduce and support a resolution at the APTA convention calling upon APTA to reverse its stand and back mandatory wheelchair lifts on buses," he said. Day said that was not possible. Meanwhile back in Los Angeles Day's other board members continued to discuss ways and means of handling the demonstrators. Ironically, Los Angeles — the city where demonstrators chose to make their point - is one of the most accessible in the country. California and Michigan are the only states that require all new public transit vehicles to be equipped with lifts. Usha Viswanathan, a spokesperson for the Southern California RTD, said that 1,891 of the district‘s 2,445 active buses were equipped with lifts and another 200 were being retrofitted. The lifts cost between $15,000 and $20,000 each. Within the next five years, the district intends to operate only lift-equipped buses, making it the first 100 percent accessible system in the country. In other parts of the country it's Up to the local transit provider to decide whether or not to offer accessible service. And that's the way it should bee, according Albert Engelken, APTA's deputy executive director. Geographical and climatic conditions have to be taken into consideration because lifts are difficult to operate in snow and on curved roads, Engelken said. In the late 1970s, the Carter administration's Department of Transportation mandated that all new buses be outfitted with wheelchair lifts. APTA, which acts as a lobbying and policy-making group for some 300 separate transit districts across the country, filed a lawsuit that eventually reversed that decision. Since then disabled groups have dogged APTA wherever it meets, insisting that the organization vote on a resolution calling for mandatory accessibility. That‘s why the demonstrators were in Southern California, Jim Parker of El Paso explained. Parker said ADAPT was very appreciative of the steps California was taking toward complete accessibility.” "This is a model city," he said. The demonstrators were in Los Angeles to embarrass APTA, not the local transit district, he said. That didn't stop the demonstrators from stopping buses, however. On Wednesday, Oct. 10, wheelchair demonstrators poured onto the streets of Long Beach, where they held several buses hostage. Protestors said they would release the buses if Laurance Jackson, general manager and president of Long Beach Transit and the newly elected president of APTA, would meet with them. A spokesperson for Jackson said that would be impossible, as Jackson had other commitments at the convention and the protestors had come unannounced. Before the day was done, police issued 33 misdemeanor citations for failure to disperse and arrested l6 protestors, all of whom were later released on their own recognizance. Blank said that the Long Beach police acted appropriately under the circumstances. Long Beach had been the scene of another confrontation earlier that same week. On Monday, 26 wheelchair demonstrators staged a roll-in at the office of U.S Rep.Glen Anderson (D-Long Beach), who is chairman of the House Transportation Committee. Anderson, who had been expected in his office that day, had been detained in Washington due to a heavy work load. The congressman later issued a statement pointing out that he had consistently voted to support accessible systems. Anderson blamed the Reagan administration, not Congress, for overturning a "requirement that the handicapped be given full accessibility to public transit." Most of the demonstrators agreed with that assessment. Blank and Parker compared APTA to the Klu Klux Klan and called upon its individual members either to fire its executive board, including executive vice president Jack Gilstrap, a longtime foe of mandatory accessibility, or to pull out and form a new national transit organization. A Gilstrap aide said he had no intention of resigning. Blank said Gilstrap and the rest of the APTA membership could expect to see them again when the organization holds its next national convention in Detroit in 1986. ADAPT plans similar tactics, since Michigan, like California, has already opted for total accessibility. "It's a question of civil rights," Blank said." And it's a national issue. Wherever they go, you can expect to find us." 3 photos filling the top three-quarters of the page. Photo 1: A man (George Florum) in a manual wheelchair wearing a black no-steps ADAPT T-shirt is loaded onto a lift of some type of vehicle by three beefy police officers Caption: GEORGE FLOROM OF of Colorado Springs is arrested for blocking buses in Long Beach. Photo 2: A dark shot of a man in a white T-shirt (Chris Hronis) being pulled upward by several sets of hands. Caption: CHRIS HONIS [sic], a California ADAPT member, is arrested at the Bonaventure Hotel. Photo 3: a couple of small groups of protesters in wheelchairs and standing, are in front of one bus and beside another, while police stand nearby. Caption: ACTIVISTS hold a bus captive in Long Beach. To the left of photo 3 is an ADAPT "we will ride" logo with the wheelchair access guy and an equal sign in the big wheel.
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Friday. May 45, I986, Gazette Telegraph -- A3 headlines Gazette Telegraph wire services the nation Title: Cincinnati called civil rights battleground CINCINNATI — Leaders of 17 wheelchair-bound protesters who were arrested while demonstrating for access to public transit buses say Cincinnati has become a civil rights battleground. “This is the Selma, Ala., of the disabled civil rights movement,” said the Rev. Wade Blank of Denver, a co-founder of the group American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation, which staged this week's protests. Seventeen protesters from Texas, Colorado and Utah were arrested Wednesday, when the American Public Transit Association concluded its regional meeting. Some boarded buses and declined requests that they get off. Others blocked a parking entrance to the hotel where the association met, while three others chained themselves together to block a doorway in the Queen City Metro headquarters.
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The Cincinnati Post, Wednesday, June 11, 1986 11A Opinion Small photo of the head of a white man with short hair and black rimmed eye glasses. James L. Adams Crosscurrents Title: Pretenders to the Civil Rights movement The attempts of minorities of all stripes to identify with the black experience in America to gain even legitimate goals strike me as being a deception and a fraud. It also trivializes the dehumanization the blacks suffered at the hands of the white majority for 350 years. Only one group was brought to this country in chains, treated like animals, sold on the block like livestock, forced to live in shanties and valued only for the labor they could produce. And even after being freed from the shackles of slavery, blacks were denied their civil rights for another 100 years. No other group in this country has had to suffer those indignities. Yet minorities as diverse as militant feminists, homosexuals and the handicapped hoist the banner of oppression and try to do a black face routine as farcical as the old showboat acts on the Mississippi of the last century. The wheelchair protests staged by the Denver-based American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT) here last month are only the latest examples of groups with gripes trying to piggyback on the black civil rights struggle. Let us all agree that more needs to be done to make sure the disabled among us can get where they want to go. And there obviously are cities doing more than Cincinnati to make public transportation accessible. Denver is one. But that is begging the question. Cincinnati is not Denver. Queen City Metro is strapped for funds. It cannot provide all the service it would like for the handicapped—or even the able-bodied. But the issue is money, not civil rights. Determined to get arrested, the wheelchair protesters blocked the Westin hotel entrances, grabbed onto the wheel well of buses to keep them from moving, and one wacko with a death wish even rolled into the path of a bus going 40 mph. Bob Kafka, one of the 14 arrested—and given special treatment at the Hamilton County Justice Center—wrote a letter to The Post that began: “I am writing this letter from the Hamilton County Jail, in which I am spending Memorial Day, for the crime of trying to ride public transportation." Kafka's emotional appeal falls flat. (He obviously was trying to imitate Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., whose famous “Letter from the Birmingham Jail" stirred the conscience of a nation.) Kafka's crime was not that of trying to ride public transportation. He was charged with disorderly conduct for crawling aboard a bus, dragging his wheelchair, dropping 50 cents in the fare box and then demanding to ride - knowing full well the bus could not move with him on it. But Kafka, in his letter, attempts to equate the problems of the handicapped with those of blacks who were forced to ride in the back of the bus: “Those in power have decided to oppress us and make sure disabled people do not ‘step out of line’ and assert their rights," Kafka wrote. “Queen City Metro decided they were going to keep disabled people in their place.” By couching his complaint in vintage 1960s language, Kafka confuses the issue. The disabled should be heard. But they should give rational reasons for their demands for equal access to public transportation and not try posing as an oppressed minority that dares not “step out of line." I didn't see any cattle prods or police dogs used to quell the demonstrations. After the protesters had left town, Council Member David Mann had pangs of conscience that caused him to make some of the silliest statements in the annals of Mann. “It seems to me that every human being in Cincinnati — visitors, handicapped or otherwise — had the absolute right to enter the Fountain Square South complex on equal terms," Mann wrote, as if he had been living in a cave during the four-day wheelchair protests. “If you and I were free to move unfettered into the public areas of the Westin, then those who happen to move by wheelchair should have been treated precisely the same." I know philosophers have struggled for centuries to define reality. After reading Mann’s views on what took place in front of the Westin, I can understand why. His perceptions are unreal. Those who happened to “move by wheelchair” were not treated precisely the same as others because they were intentionally trying to block the entrances and disrupt bus service. That's called breaking the law. It seems to me that even a council member from Clifton, who happens to be a lawyer, should be able to make that distinction. The restrictions were not based on class discrimination. Rather, they were triggered by those misguided handicapped persons who believe they can gain greater access to public places by denying that right to others. The wheelchair protesters would have scored more points with the public by shunning crazy antics and making their appeal in a sane manner. I think it revealing that the Greater Cincinnati Coalition of People With Disabilities refused to participate in the public demonstrations. The coalition leaders believe they can accomplish more by talking with local city and bus officials than by trying to disrupt traffic. They certainly will gain more public sympathy. James L Adams is associate editor of The Post. PHOTO by the Associated Press: Two men in wheelchairs, one with dark curly hair and a beard in a manual wheelchair (Bob Kafka), and the other with long braids, a headband and a dark beard (Mike Auberger), block a narrow hallway. Both are wearing light colored shirts with the ADAPT no steps logo in black. Behind them at least seven men -- two appear to be police officers -- stand, looking somewhat exasperated. caption reads: Bob Kafka. left, and Mike Auberger chained themselves together to block the entrance to Queen City Metro offices.
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The Cincinnati Enquirer Wednesday, May 21, 1, '86 p14—A Title: The handicapped Bus service that can meet special needs is the answer The handicapped demonstrators who are demanding greater access to transportation systems could find that, even if they succeed, they may not like what they get. About '75 members of American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT) have been in Cincinnati for the regional meeting of the American Public Transit Association (APTA). Their purpose has been to protest what they see as a violation of their civil rights. They want to be able to use all modes of public transportation as others do. ADAPT is focusing on bus systems, asking that all buses — on a progressive basis -- be provided with lifts for the handicapped. That might be a valid answer, if the money were available, but the experience of states such as California and Michigan shows that the handicapped prefer a more personalized service, such as the Access shuttles that Metro provides. Both California and Michigan have state laws requiring fully accessible systems, but the use of regular buses is negligible. Most of the handicapped prefer the “Dial-a-Ride” services that supplement the regular system. That service seems the best way. With Cincinnati's hilly terrain for example, how would the handicapped reach the bus stops? How far would they have to go to reach a "regular" bus stop? How far must they travel when they get off? What happens in chilly, stormy or snowy weather? From the bus service's standpoint, how do buses keep schedules? How many areas on a bus would have to be cleared for handicapped equipment? What would be the costs? How would those costs be met? APTA officials say their policy is to recommend that local services do what is best, considering their terrain, climate, resources and needs -— always in consultation with the community served. Metro’s Access has had its troubles meeting the needs of the handicapped. Last year, the demand was so great that the handicapped had to wait for as long as a week before they could schedule a ride. Although the problem has been helped somewhat, Metro’s officials frankly agree that it is not ideal. Improvement is needed. The handicapped must have freedom of movement. The question is, what is best for them and what is possible? The problem won't be easily solved. More bus service is needed in many areas of Greater Cincinnati, and with the cut in federal funds, money will be hard to come by. But Cincinnati's coalition of the handicapped has found negotiation preferable to confrontation. Although the coalition is upset about the limitations of Access, it still sees co-operative decisions as the wisest course. And it is. Together with Metro, they must find a practical answer to their needs.
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8B The Cincinnati Post, Monday,May19,1986 Title: Disabled activist group faces arrest By Edwina Blackwell, Post staff reporter Cincinnati police will arrest members of a national handicapped activist group today if they fulfill a vow to block and chain themselves to Queen City Metro buses to protest the inaccessibility of buses to the handicapped. Michael Auberger, community organizer for American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation (ADAPT). said the group's civil disobedience will take a more disruptive turn as the week progresses. “Whatever it, takes to disable the bus, that's what we'll do to show that the bus is inaccessible," Auberger said during a Sunday protest by the group at the downtown Westin Hotel, where public transit officials are meeting. However, Police Capt. Dale Menkhaus said extra officers will patrol the downtown streets where protesters say they will block buses and chain themselves to bumpers while the buses are stopped for traffic lights. “We're prepared to do whatever necessary to protect them (the protesters) and the general public. If they elect to violate the law, they will pay the consequences," Menkhaus said. About 85 ADAPT members - who have been arrested during similar protests in other cities — made their way Sunday afternoon from the Newport Travelodge to the Westin Hotel, where the American Public Transit Association is meeting. With most of its members confined to wheelchairs, some of the protesters relied upon able-bodied members to push them through the streets. Several of the protesters were draped with chains and locks that they plan to use to chain themselves to buses. Extra Cincinnati police officers guided the march and some were waiting for the group at the Westin, where the protesters were greeted with barricades at each of the hotel's entrances. The demonstrators arrived at the Westin and picketed in front of the hotel's entrances on Vine, Fifth and Walnut streets. “We will ride!“ they chanted. There were no arrests Sunday, although police warned pickets they would be arrested if they blocked the hotel's entrances. Menkhaus met with the protesters Sunday and cautioned that they would be arrested if they disrupted bus traffic. Auberger, a former Cincinnatian who now lives in Denver, was pleased with Sunday's protest. Leaning back in his wheelchair with a lock and chain around his neck, he said, "I think we made a strong statement to APTA and Cincinnati that disabled people aren't powerless." Murray Bond, assistant general manager for Queen City Metro, said the city-owned transit company has been working with police for several weeks in anticipation of protests by ADAPT. Members of ADAPT, a Denver—based organization, arrived in Cincinnati to coincide with the eastern education and training conference of the APTA. Nearly 600 transit officials are attending the five-day meeting, which ends Thursday. The convention's general session was to begin this morning. U.S. Rep. Martin Sabo. D-Minn., will give the keynote address. On Wednesday, the conference will address the transportation needs of the disabled during a 2 p.m. workshop. Auberger said the risk the group's members take shows how important it is to them to be able to use public transportation at will. "The point is so vital to make," he said. Bond said Queen City Metro knows of the tactics used in other cities. “Our chief concern is for the safety of the people and our riders," he said. In Cincinnati, ADAPT wants Queen City Metro to operate the wheelchair lifts currently soldered into place on 87 buses. The group also wants all buses purchased in the future to be equipped with wheelchair lifts. At present, 19 vans are used to pick up handicapped individuals in Cincinnati through a contracted service called Access. Judith Van Ginkel, director of communications for Queen City Metro, said the service was recently expanded to include three more neighborhoods and [unreadable] for those who don't need wheelchair lifts. She added it would cost Queen City Metro $350,000 to make the lifts on the 87 buses operational. Albert Engelken, APTA deputy executive director, said money problems being faced by transit systems are at the root of transportation for the handicapped. "We don't see this as a civil rights issue," he said. "We see this as a funding issue." ADAPT disagrees. Jerry Eubanks lost his legs to gangrene as a child. On Sunday, he served as a group cheerleader pushing for what he sees as a civil right for the handicapped. "When you make transportation, it's public. It's for everyone," said Eubanks, a Chicago resident. “We're only fighting for what's already here. "