- ენაAfrikaans Argentina AzÉrbaycanca
á¥áá áá£áá Äesky Ãslenska
áá¶áá¶ááááá à¤à¥à¤à¤à¤£à¥ বাà¦à¦²à¦¾
தமிழ௠à²à²¨à³à²¨à²¡ ภาษาà¹à¸à¸¢
ä¸æ (ç¹é«) ä¸æ (é¦æ¸¯) Bahasa Indonesia
Brasil Brezhoneg CatalÃ
ç®ä½ä¸æ Dansk Deutsch
Dhivehi English English
English Español Esperanto
Estonian Finnish Français
Français Gaeilge Galego
Hrvatski Italiano Îλληνικά
íêµì´ LatvieÅ¡u Lëtzebuergesch
Lietuviu Magyar Malay
Nederlands Norwegian nynorsk Norwegian
Polski Português RomânÄ
Slovenšcina Slovensky Srpski
Svenska Türkçe Tiếng Viá»t
Ù¾Ø§Ø±Ø³Û æ¥æ¬èª ÐÑлгаÑÑки
ÐакедонÑки Ðонгол Ð ÑÑÑкий
СÑпÑки УкÑаÑнÑÑка ×¢×ר×ת
اÙعربÙØ© اÙعربÙØ©
დასაწყისი / გალერეა / სიტყვა Rev Wade Blank 6
ADAPT (1773)
the Beacon Review May 3, 1991 [This contains the text from ADAPT 1773 and 1772 for easier reading.] Title: Local activists making an impact on our daily lives Drawing of the heads of three people: Beth Gallegos, Sam Lusky and Wade Blank. Their names are printed beside their heads. Title: Striving to make a difference by Kerri S. Smlth According to a recently released national survey, most Americans are moral bankrupt, and many live in an existential waste. We're a nation of liars and cheaters, according to the survey results. Twenty five percent of the survey respondents even said they'd abandon families for $10 million. But there are still people who spend their time fighting for what they believe ls right and just. The Beacon took a quick head count this week, and came up with dozens of local activists trying to make a difference. Three are profiled below. WADE Blank Last week hundreds of demonstrators led by Denverite Wade Blank, a 50 year old minister who's made a career out of civil disobedience. invaded the Baltimore headquarters of the federal Health Care Finance Administration, waving signs, shouting demands; and honking horns. Most of the demonstrators, who belong to Denver based American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT), rode wheelchairs into battle with the federal government . Blank is founder and co director of ADAPT. Their aim: to up divert aid dollars to a national home care program, so that disabled and elderly people can remain at home instead of in a nursing home. It's a controversial, but then Blank ls no stranger controversy. He marched with civil rights leader Martin Luther King, demonstrated against the Vietnam War and saw the birth of the feminist movement at Kent State before moving to Colorado in 1971. "I call myself a person who teaches empowerment," Blank explained. "As an able boded‘ man, l set the pace and target issues, and then hand the power over to others." The process apparently works. Before July of 1978, Denver, like most cities, lacked wheelchair accessible public transit. ADAPT activists commandeered two buses and shut down the Colfax Broadway intersection long enough to get the job done. "We slept in the streets for two nights while supporters sent over sandwiches," Blank recalled. Today, wheelchair accessible public transit is the law of the land, and Japan and other countries are following the American example. Blank's metamorphosis from minister to leader of the disabled people's civil rights movement occurred when he worked at a Lakewood nursing home ln the early 70s.‘ "I moved here to lick my wounds after the shootings at Kent State," Blank said, [missing text] ...ing my Volkswagen behind a U Haul. My family thought I'd gone berserk, because, I had, a master's degree in theology and was working as a nursing home orderly." He didn't like what he saw there. ‘I tried to make life bearable by reforming the system, but by 1974 I gave up and tried moving residents into ' apartments,” Blank said. A Legal Aid lawyer helped Blank and disabled residents sue the facility, along with the federal and state governments, Thirteen years later, in 1987, the disabled plaintiffs won a class action suit and collected $26 million. While the lawsuit dragged on, Blank founded “The Atlantis Community,” a home health care company currently serving around l50 disabled and elderly Coloradans; The company also runs a home health aide certification “training program. ADAPT activists also influenced the l988 national nursing home reform bill (Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act) that protects residents‘ rights, among other things. And last summer President Bush signed the Americans with Disabilities Act, another ADAPT driven initiative. The bill requires all restaurants to be wheelchair accessible by January 1992. In the meantime, Blank said he and other ADAPT activists will “keep hitting the streets until the government changes national policies towards disabled and elderly people.
ADAPT (1769)
Front cover of AWARE News spring 1993, There is a big headline: In memory of Wade Blank, ADAPT Leader, disability rights activist. Below is a photo by Tom Olin of a group of people in wheelchairs sitting in a group talking with Wade Blank and Rev. Willie Smith, and Shel Trapp. Behind them is some fancy stone wall. George Roberts is at the back of the group, closest to the camera.
ADAPT (1764)
IF HEAVEN ISN'T ACCESSIBLE, GOD IS IN TROUBLE by Tari Susan Hartman Reprinted from Incitement, A publication of Atlantis/ADAPT [This article appears in ADAPT 1764 & 1773 but is completely included here for easier reading.] ADAPT mourns the loss of one of our greatest leaders, Wade Blank, and his son Lincoln. while on a family vacation in Todos Santos, Mexico, Lincoln got caught in an ocean undertow. Wade swam out to save him and both drowned on February 25th, 1993. They are survived by Wade's wife Molly and daughters Heather and Caitlin. Ironically, Wade died in the same way he lived swimming out into the face of hostile under currents, and giving his life to help others fight for theirs, Those who have come to national ADAPT actions remember in the early days Lincoln rode along on Wade's back. Later, he walked by wade's side while Caitlin rode. with his elfish smile, Lincoln quietly drank in all the action at demonstrations, vigils, planning meetings and anything else that came up in his dad's activist life. while other kids play "doctor" or "house", Lincoln played "rally." Wade was born December 4, 1940 in Pittsburgh, PA. After attending an all white high school, he travelled with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to Selma on a dare by a black college roommate. His experiences there taught him the deep oppression perpetuated by our "civilized" society. Once he graduated college, he served as pastor of a church just outside of Kent, Ohio that became the underground meeting place for the Students for a Democratic Society, SDS. After the Kent State killings, he returned to get a masters degree from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained a Presbyterian minister. Burnt out on his past activism and organizing, he moved to Denver and began working in a nursing home. with years of civil rights, war on poverty and antiwar organizing experience, he could not ignore the oppression he found there. So he began to deliver Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream of freedom directly to the doorstep of the disability ghetto: the nursing home. In 1971, while on staff at Heritage House, a Denver nursing home, Wade tried to work within the system to dignify the lives of the young disabled residents. A recent ABC—TV movie with Fred Savage entitled "When You Remember Me" chronicled this story. Wade and the resident's efforts were doomed to fail, but they gave birth to a better alternative. In 1974 Wade founded the Atlantis Community a model for community-based and consumer controlled independent living center named for the lost continent of Atlantis, those easily forgotten and dismissed. The first members of Atlantis were those young adults incarcerated in Heritage House, from which Wade had been fired. Forgotten by the system and often by their families, these individuals were not forgotten by Wade as he began to liberate them from the nursing home into the Atlantis Community. Years later Wade and attorney John Holland masterminded a $32 million lawsuit against Heritage House nursing home for obstruction of justice and violation of civil rights. The case went all the way to the US Supreme Court. Today many of those original nursing home residents are raising families in homes they now own. In 1978 Wade and Atlantis realized that if people with disabilities were to truly live independently, they would need, and should have a right to, accessible public transportation. On July 5-6. 1978 a "gang of nineteen" disability activists and Wade held their first inaccessible bus hostage in the Denver intersection of Broadway and Colfax. Late that night Wade was surprised when US Congresswoman Pat Schroeder handed him a doughnut and a cup of coffee. Atlantis‘ decision to take the fight for lifts on buses to the national level soon led to the birth of ADAPT (American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit. ADAPT was the nation's first direct action, grass-roots movement of disability activists and mushroomed in over 30 states, Canada, Sweden and England. Like the freedom riders of the 60s, ADAPT's struggle for accessible public transit became a national battle cry of the 80s. Over the course of eight years of biannual national demonstrations throughout the country, hundreds of ADAPT activists and their families and friends were arrested for their beliefs and commitment to ensure civil rights for all disabled citizens. Twelve years after the first bus seize, the Americans with Disabilities Act, ADA, mandated lifts on buses. ADAPT's street chant "access is a civil right" echoed in the halls of Congress, as politicians became increasingly aware that ADAPT and the disability rights movement fully expected ADA to be passed as landmark civil rights legislation. ADAPT organized the "wheels of Justice" march in March of 1990, and Wade played a key role. It was a call-- to— action that galvanized the disability rights movement to demand swift passage of ADA with no weakening amendments. Over 1,000 disability rights activists from across the nation joined forces with ADAPT to demonstrate to the world that they were to be taken seriously. On the second anniversary of the signing of the ADA (July 25, 1992), the city of Denver and its Regional Transit District commemorated that historic event by dedicating a plaque to Atlantis/ADAPT and the "gang of nineteen" who held the first bus. Wade refused to have his name engraved on the plaque, but his silent tears at the dedication ceremony revealed the depth with which he felt the issues of disability rights. He had left his mark forever etched in the foundation of our civil rights movement. In 1990, when it was clear that ADAPT had successfully led and won the fight for accessible public transportation with the passage of the ADA, wade and other national ADAPT leaders convened to plot their next course of action. There was little question for anyone what that next issue would be. ADAPT transformed its mission and became "American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today." Together, ADAPT and wade returned to the scene of one of society's most heinous crimes the warehousing of 1.6 million disabled men, women and children. These disabled Americans committed no crime, yet were and still are, interred against their will, in nursing homes, state schools and other institutions. They are used as the crop of industries like the nursing home lobby, physicians and their conglomerate owners who continue to get rich by robbing our people of their fundamental civil, human and inalienable rights to life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Most of us are spectators sitting on the sidelines of life, learning history from books. Wade, was an active participant in over three decades of political organizing. He taught others how to create and record their own destiny. A brilliant strategist, he helped shape the tide of the disability rights movement. Yet Wade was never too busy to roll up his sleeves and assist someone with attendant services, push or repair a chair or drive a van. He stood up for what he believed in and expected others to do the same. In his Pursuit to free others from the chains of oppressions he was arrested 15 times and proud of it! Several weeks ago Wade Blank's story, including the development of Atlantis and ADAPT, was officially accepted into the National Archives. Wade, a passionate Cleveland Browns fan, was a loving husband, daddy, friend, organizer and leader. He valued and encouraged the unique contributions that each of us has to give to ourselves, each other and the world around us. We honor his contribution, value his friendship, and grieve the loss of our beloved friend and colleague. Wade was one of the few non disabled allies of the disability rights movement who understood the politics of oppression. At times through the years, his leadership role was questioned, but he never lost sight of the vision, nor lacked the support of those he was close with. Photo by Tom Olin: Wade Blank and Mike Auberger sitting on either side of the plaque honoring the Gang of 19. Caption reads: Co-Directors Wade Blank and Mike Auberger reflect on the past decade of organizing and activism.
ADAPT (768)
San Francisco Examiner TITLE: Disabled protest for more funds for home attendants Subheading: Entrances to downtown Marriott are blocked By Wylie Wong of the Examiner Staff, October 19, 1992 About 300 demonstrators in wheelchairs blocked the entrances to the San Francisco Marriott, calling for more funds to allow the disabled to live outside of nursing homes. Sunday's protest was designed to drew attention to the 16 million disabled people who have no choice but to live in nursing homes, said the Rev. Wade Blank, a co-founder Americans Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT). The protesters targeted the American Health Care Association, a nursing-home trade group whose members are staying at the Marriott on Fourth and Minion streets while attending a convention at nearby Moscone Center. ADAPT wants 25 percent of the $27 billion paid to nursing home operators under the Medicaid program to be used to help disabled people pay for personal attendants. But the Bush administration and the health care association, which represents about 10,000 nursing homes, oppose the plan. Only $600 million of that money currently is used for in-home attendant care, said ADAPT co-founder Michael Auberger. Police escorted the protesters on the eight-block trip from their Market Street hotel, and watched as they barricaded themselves at the Marriott's entrances. The protesters chanted. "Down with nursing homes, up with attendant care.” Police were able to keep some entrances open for hotel guests. No arrests were made. Kimberly Horton, who lived in a nursing home from age 6 to 21, described her experience as “living in a prison." "They take away your personal dignity," she said. "You had to eat what they put in front of you. They'd get angry at me for wetting my bed, but wouldn't help when I had to go.” Protester Blane Beckwith, a Berkeley resident, has a personal attendant who takes care of his everyday needs, from taking a bath to preparing food. But state budget cuts have slashed eight hours of care per month. As a result, he has only half an hour per week for grocery shopping with his attendant. "No one can shop for groceries in half an hour, My mother helps me, but she's 62 and can't do it forever." he said. Horton, who wants to take writing classes and become a free-lance writer, fear that more budget cutsar will force him to live in a nursing home. "A nursing home is stifling," he said, "You have no social life. You can't work." Conventioneers who walked past the protesters were unimpressed. "I have no argument with wanting more attendant care,” said John Jarrett, who runs a 79-bed nursing home in New York. "But they shouldn't take it from the elderly,” who would be hurt if ADAPT funding plan were implemented, he said. The demonstrators plan to protest the convention through Friday. A police commander said 90 police officers were on hand. “They haven’t been violent,” he said. “They’ve been very cooperative.“ Last week, officers took two hour classes at the Police Academy to learn how to arrest and search disabled people without harming them. PHOTO by Michael Macor, Examiner: The front of the ADAPT group marching down a downtown street and in the background the line of marchers goes out of sight. Paulette Patterson, Julie Nolan, Carla Laws, Brooke Boston? and Bob Kafka among those leading the march. Photo caption: Disabled people from the group ADAPT make their way down Mission Street to the Marriott Hotel.
ADAPT (383)
The Gazette, Montreal, Monday, October 3, 1988 Final [edition] 50 cents Title: Police arrest 28 wheelchair activists after protest in hotel lobby By Michael Doyle and Catherine Buckie of the Gazette Twenty-eight wheelchair protesters were arrested and charged with mischief last night after 50 of them staged a noisy demonstration in the lobby of the Sheraton Center on Dorchester Blvd. The protesters were demonstrating against the lack of mass transit facilities for the handicapped. They sang We Shall Overcome and chanted “Access is a Civil Right!” as they blocked off elevators and escalators at the downtown hotel. Police took the wheelchair activists to the Bonsecours St. station. They were to be arraigned before a judge at 1 a.m. today. “We don’t want to hold them for nothing,” said Const. Bernard Perrier. “We want to put them before a judge as soon as possible. It will be up to the judge to decide what happens to them after that.” The demonstrators were mostly members of a U.S. group, American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT). They are here to badger transit-authority representatives from across the continent – including officials of the Montreal Urban Community Transit Corp. – who are attending the convention of the American Public Transit Association. “We’re just trying to make their convention as inaccessible to them as public transit is for us,” group organizer Rev. Wade Blank of Denver, Colo., said earlier that day. A squad of about 80 police officers was called in to clear the hotel lobby. One protester, Bob Kafka, a 42-year-old Vietnam veteran from Austin, Texas whose neck was broken in a car accident, had chained himself to a railing in the lobby. Police cut the chain with shears. The activists decided to demonstrate at the Sheraton because a large number of delegates to the transit convention are staying there, Kafka said. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but we’ve been inconvenienced all our lives,” he said. Hotel general manager Alfred Heim, who used a bullhorn to read a portion of the Eviction Act to the protesters before the police moved in, said he expected some trouble because the protesters attend each transit convention. The demonstration closed the westbound lanes on Dorchester Blvd. outside the hotel for about two hours. It was the second time yesterday that the demonstrators had disrupted traffic on Dorchester Blvd. Earlier, more than 75 of the wheelchair activists blocked traffic outside the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, site of the convention. Police there put up barricades to contain the activists, who were eventually allowed to line up single-file on the north side of the street, away from the hotel entrance. Picture, Page A-3 The end
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."