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Hjem / Albumer / Merknader civil disobedience
+ Rehabilitation Act of 1973 - section 504 3
ADAPT (413)
[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
ADAPT (206)
Village Voice, March 4, 1986, p.27 [Headline] NAT HENTOFF: America’s Apartheid [This was part of a series of articles Mr. Hentoff wrote for the Village Voice on disability issues and people with disabilities in our society.] PHOTO in center of page, Photo credit Michael Rondou / Press - Telegram: A slight man (Bobby Hartwell) in a somewhat rickety manual wheelchair sits in front of a large city bus [number 4405]. Through the windsheild a very beefy uniformed man, perhaps the driver, stands arms resting in front of him. Behind and to the side of this first bus is a group of three police men standing and conferring. Behind them a couple of other wheelchair riders are blocking a second bus. Behind that bus a third is barely visable. Text box above the photo: “Anatomy is not destiny and never has been.” The photo caption: A demonstrator holds a bus hostage In Long Beach, California: Because of the way the bus is built, the demonstrator can't get on. [Italicized] A “caste” of. . . persons has been created [in America]. Members suffer a stigma of abnormality, inferiority, and dependency, are provided with separate facilities and programs, and are encouraged to interact only with others of the same caste. [Italicized ends] —Robert Funk, Director/Attorney, Disability Rights Education and Defense Fund, Inc. [Italicized] Black people started a movement when they were forced to sit in the backs of buses. We're not even allowed on the buses. [Italicized ends] – Julie Haraskin, during a nonviolent direct-action demonstration in Los Angeles by ADAPT (American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit) Barry Giddings is a citizen of the United States who lives in Philadelphia. In 1981, he was shot in the neck and became a quadriplegic. The only way he can get around is in a wheelchair. Until December 10, 1985, he and his brother lived in his mother's home. On that day, Mrs. Giddings and her family were evicted. She went to Philadelphia's Division of Adult Services to get shelter for herself and her sons. Mrs. Giddings was told that she and her nondisabled son would be provided shelter, but Barry Giddings would have to provide for himself. Why? Because he was disabled. The apparatchiks tried to make Mrs. Giddings understand that they had no choice in this matter. Taking care of her disabled son's needs, they explained, would cost more money than was being spent on the average homeless soul in the city's shelters. Then there were the costs of additional insurance premiums to cover the city if this quadriplegic were taken in. Then where should he go? Was this man to be thrown out into the street to lie there until he died? Not our problem, said Philadelphia's Division of Adult Services. Lest you think that the decision to wholly abandon this disabled man was made by some low-level employee devoted to the increasingly popular notion that inconvenient people should be terminated, the person who sent Barry Giddings into the night was following the policy of Philadelphia's Division of Adult Services. A relative arranged to have Giddings taken into Jefferson Hospital for the night because the staff there, unlike the folks at Adult Services, could not bear leaving him without shelter. They put him in the emergency room. The next day, he was removed to Magee Rehabilitation Hospital, although he did not require hospitalization. What he required, was a place to stay, and Magee Rehabilitation Hospital couldn’t keep him because providing shelter wasn't its' function. Barry Giddings, with the help of Stefan Presser, an American Civil Liberties Union attorney, took the city of Philadelphia to court. The class action suit charged that the city policy discriminates against homeless people who are disabled, and thereby violates their Constitutional right to equal protection under the law as well as their rights under Section 504 of the Federal Rehabilitation Act of 1973. That statute forbids discrimination against the handicapped in any program receiving Federal funds, and Philadelphia's Division of Adult Services, as part of the Department of Human Services, does receive Federal money. The city of Philadelphia quickly caved in, placed Giddings in a temporary shelter and said it would find permanent housing for him and his mother. As Stefan Presser points out, a particularly shocking thing about the case was that although the city had been engaged in a vigorous campaign to get the homeless into shelters, it had this firm policy of shutting out the disabled among the homeless. "There's no telling," Presser told me, “how many disabled people have been turned away until we got the policy changed, and who knows what happened to them? Some of the organizations for the disabled inform me that from time to time they've had phone calls from people who have been refused shelter because they're not able-bodied, but when they got to the phone booth from which the call was made, there was no one there." Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man could have a counterpart in the experiences of the nation's disabled for many, many years. As Robert Funk, Director of the Disability Rights, Education and Defense Fund, wrote in 1981: “American society, under the guise of humanitarian efforts, has developed a record, with respect to treatment of disabled persons, that is a history of isolation and discrimination inflicted upon them because of their ‘handicaps.’ This history, manifested in the attitude of ‘out of sight, out of mind,' carried out through policies of custodialism, has resulted in an ostracized, invisible minority denied access to organized society." This year, in his part of a forthcoming book, Images of the Disabled/Disabling Images, Funk makes the corollary point—— and see if any of this applies to you ---- that "the general public does not associate the word 'discrimination' with the segregation and exclusion of disabled people. Most people assume that disabled people are excluded from school or segregated because they cannot learn or because they need special protection. So too, the absence of disabled coworkers is simply considered a confirmation of the obvious fact that disabled people can't work. These assumptions are deeply rooted in history. Historically, the inferior economic and social status of disabled people has been viewed as the inevitable consequence of tho physical and mental differences imposed by disability." I know a young woman whose disability is athetosis, a form of cerebral palsy, which affects her speech and the way she walks. She is a first-class writer --- a published writer --- and a graduate of Harvard Law School. Currently in Hartford, she specializes in state regulation of automobile and homeowners’ insurance. Her name is Lisa Blumberg and she wrote me recently: "If nondisabled adults spent more time talking to disabled adults, they would learn that anatomy is not destiny and never has been." But because many disabled adults are segregated from the rest of the population, misconceptions about them, along with ignorance of who they actually are, continue to create more discrimination. For instance. Michael Landwehr of the Council for Disability Rights in Chicago, born with spina bifida, was disabled during surgery when he was 12. He is a graduate of the University of Illinois. Landwehr watched with great interest when in 1973 Congress enacted Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act forbidding discrimination against the disabled in any programs or activities that receive Federal funding. So what has Michael Landwehr's life been like since 1973? “I have been denied an apartment based on my disability," he says. “Last year I was uprooted from home when the commuter train I took to work refused to let me continue riding without an attendant. I was told I could not buy a ticket in the first-class section of an airliner unless I also purchased a ticket for an attendant. I have been denied jobs and promotions on the basis of my disability. Every day I am denied access to public transportation. [He is in A wheelchair.] “Hundreds of thousands of disabled persons remain incarcerated in nursing homes and institutions, isolated from every aspect of community life, denied their right to vote, denied the right to education and employment. Disabled people remain the most unemployed and underpaid group in the country. For every dollar earned by a nondisabled white male, a disabled white male earns 52 cents, a disabled minority male earns 25 cents, and a disabled minority woman earns 12 cents." But the disability rights movement is gathering momentum and has already brought about some changes. Accordingly, by the end of this decade, there is likely to be a stretching of public consciousness concerning this form of American apartheid that has largely been ignored during the rise of all the other movements for equal protection under the law-—blacks, women, Native Americans, homosexuals and lesbians, Hispanics, et al. Future columns will include an exploration of the nonviolent direct-action arm of the disability rights movement, which is currently the most vigorous continuation of the Martin Luther King-Saul Alinsky legacy. The series will also go into the history of legislation and court action concerning the disabled; the seemingly infinite ways in which the disabled are distorted, sentimentalized, and underestimated by the press, television, and films; a battery of very specific legislative recommendations by the disabled; and a good deal more. One of the underlying themes is a comment by Vassar Miller, who has published eight volumes of poetry, one of which was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. In her early sixties now, she was born with cerebral palsy. “What handicaps me far more than my physical condition," she says, “is the reaction society has to it. And, no less important, my reaction to society's reaction." Vassar Miller has edited a new book, Despite This Flesh (University of Texas Press), an extraordinarily illuminating collection of short stories and poems about the disabled. If public television had any imagination, a striking series could be made from Despite This Flesh. It ranges from pungent, poignant, and sharply funny evocations of childhood to a resoundingly erotic poem about a paralyzed man, "Seated Nude" by Richard Ronan. In her introduction, Vassar Miller tells of how, when she was a child, before there was ever such a thing as special education or mainstreaming, her stepmother “had tried to enroll me in a private school. ‘They just looked at me and started talking about God!‘" her stepmother said in dismayed tones when she came home. By the time the 1980s are over, a picket line of the disabled might elbow God aside and change the admissions policies of a school like that. The pressure is rising inside the disabled to break out of their caste, to be visible, to be part of whatever the hell's going on that they want to be part of. Consider ADAPT (American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit). In a number of cities around the country, its members have been demonstrating and getting arrested in protests against the lack of lifts on buses and the absence of ways of enabling the disabled to use other forms of public transportation. On October 6 in Los Angeles, a march of some 280 disabled ended at the Westin Bonaventure Hotel, where the American Public Transit Association was holding a convention. This was the scene, as described in The Disability Rag (Box 145, Louisville, Kentucky): "Attempts by ADAPT members to descend to the main lobby of the Bonaventure on the one elevator connecting the lobby with the street level were met with police resistance. Security forces turned off the elevator and escalators. Police blocked doors to prevent other disabled people from entering the hotel. Chants of ‘We Will Ride!‘ filled the Bonaventure from protesters inside and out. A number of ADAPT marchers, determined that conventioneers would not be able to use the escalators either, tried to block the escalator entrances or to throw themselves down the steps....By Monday, the Bonaventure had become a police-held fortress.“ I bet you never thought disabled people could do anything like that. It's just the beginning. As an ADAPT organizer yelled at a crowd of the disabled in Los Angeles, “We've got to get over our slave mentality!"
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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?”