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ホーム / アルバム / タグ Handicapped Coloradan 6
ADAPT (1789)
The Handicapped Coloradan / Page 15 & 16 [This article continues in ADAPT 1786, but has been completely included here for easier reading.] Title: "If heaven isn't accessible God had better Watch out!" Photo: Waist up picture of Wade Blank with his below shoulder length blonde hair and round tinted glasses. He is smiling and wearing a vest. Caption reads: Wade Blank ADAPT founder dies in Mexico. Wade Blank went down to Baja, California, in February and drowned there trying to save his eight year old son Lincoln. He was there vacationing with his family. The money for the trip came from Wade’s share of a legal settlement in San Francisco when bad guys violated the civil rights of ADAPT demonstrators. He couldn't afford that kind of trip on his own. He never made more than $16,000 in his life. Lincoln was in the water swimming. An undertow got him and Wade went in after him. He had to know there was very little chance either one would survive. Some fisherman from a nearby village fished Wade’ s body from the water. His wife Molly brought his body home and they covered the coffin with an American flag. Only the stars on this flag formed a wheelchair. Lincoln’s body was never recovered. A few days before he left on that vacation, I told him to skip Baja and its treacherous waters for the calmer seas off Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. Wade said he’d think about it but we both knew he wouldn’t alter his plans. Wade Blank liked to be where the action was. Many of the 1100 people who filled the ballroom at the Radisson Hotel on Sunday, Feb. 21, to say goodbye to their fallen comrade had accompanied him into battle. “If heaven isn’t accessible,” one of them warned, “God better watch out!” Wade founded the Atlantis Community in 1975 when he helped several disabled people move out of a nursing home and into their own apartments. Then he went on to help organize protests against RTD for not having wheelchairs lifts on its buses, a move that later led to the creation of ADAPT, which then stood for American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (“The hard part is getting the acronym right,” he told me at the time.) I asked Tom Olin who was going to replace Wade. “No one,” he said. “Wade was into empowering disabled people. It’s a tribute to him that we’ll just keep on going.” Maybe. But it won’t be the same. People like Wade Blank don't come along very often. A writer for Westward once called Wade the nearest thing to a saint he had ever met. But Wade wasn’t perfect. After all, he was a Cleveland Browns’ fan. He had it so bad that on game day he’d call home to his folks in Ohio and have them put the phone next to the radio. He was president of the Cleveland Browns Fans in Exile Club. A small part of him died when Elway found Jackson in the end zone in the 1987 AFC Championship game. He was a devoted father who had a vasectomy reversed after he married Molly. He called me soon after the operation and bitched about having to lie still to prevent the tubes from severing again. It was the only time I knew him to stay still. The time spent was worth it. He loved Lincoln and Caitlan just as he loved Heather, his adopted daughter. He instilled in them special values. A neighbor recalled a time when she came home and observed Lincoln in front of his house directing some other kids. They weren't playing cowboy and Indian or war or any of the usual childhood games. They were playing rally. “All right,” Lincoln said. “United we stand, never apart.” Wade was a Presbyterian minister whose language would make a coal miner blush. I quoted him a lot on these pages over the past ten years or so but I never quoted him accurately. He used four letter words the way other people use punctuation. Someone made a TV movie about the events at Heritage Nursing Home and Wade said it was close to the truth. But the actor who played Wade didn’t quite capture his style. Wade wore his hair long and looked a little like a construction worker who took a wrong tum back in the 1960s. He once asked me if I wore ties. “I own one,” I said. “It keeps my sleeping bag rolled up.” He liked that. He hated ties. At the memorial service, those few men who showed up wearing ties were asked to remove them—out of respect. By then I owned a real tie. You can‘t go to a funeral in my small hometown without one. I left it at home for Wade. He didn’t have the eloquence of a Martin Luther King. He didn't need it. He wasn’t interested in grabbing the spotlight for himself. He taught his friends that their wheelchairs were a weapon and if they used them right, the whole world would take notice. RTD took notice. Denver became one of the first cities in the U.S. to adopt accessible public transit. Wade helped carry that message to countless other cities. He showed people how they could make a statement by going to jail and then he went out and raised the bail money. Eventually, in a parking lot in Atlanta, the feds gave in. Accessible public transit would be the law of the land. Wade wasn’t about to rest on his laurels. He turned his attention to an earlier cause. ADAPT changed the acronym to American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today and took on the nursing home industry. Wade knew that the disabled warriors who took on the federal government over accessible transit and got themselves arrested scores of times were strong enough to live in their own homes. He vowed to force the federal government to take money away from the nursing homes and make that dream a reality. That battle goes on. His friends at ADAPT are planning a memorial service in his honor in Washington, D.C. this May. At the same time, they’re going to make sure Bill Clinton honors his promises to provide funds for such attendant care. It's a fitting memorial but you can find plenty of monuments to Wade Blank in this country. There one at every street comer where there’s a curb cut and one on every bus equipped with a lift. And every time someone who is exploited because of a physical disability raises a fist in defiance and fights for his or her freedom and humanity, you’ll see Wade’s image in their eyes and his dream in their hearts. So long, Wade. If it’s really heaven, there won’t be a dress code. Written by Tom Schantz
ADAPT (296)
Handicapped Coloradan Volume 9, No. 3, Boulder Colorado October 1986 [There are two articles included here.] Headline: Rosa bows out at last minute PHOTO: by Melanie Stengel, courtesy of UPI Three uniformed police officers surround a woman in a scooter (Edith Harris) and hold her arms. They are in front of a city bus, and behind them you can see a fourth officer and a city building. The caption reads: EDITH HARRIS, 62, of Hartford, Conn., is arrested by police during demonstrations in Detroit in early October. Harris, a grandmother who lost her legs to diabetes, was in Detroit to picket the national convention of the American Public Transit Association (APTA). Harris has participated in similar demonstrations in Washington, D.C, and Los Angeles, Calif. She was also arrested in both those cities. Ironically, Harris compares herself to Rosa Parks, the black civil rights leader who decided at the last minute not to participate in the Detroit transit demonstrations. Title: Blacks blast ADAPT [This article continues in ADAPT 288 but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] Civil rights heroine Rosa Parks shocked disabled groups when she said at the last minute that she would not participate in any actions protesting Detroit's lack of accessible public transit. “We do not wish any American to be discriminated against in transportation or any other form that reduces their equality and dignity," Elaine Steele an assistant to Parks, said in a letter dated Oct. 3 and delivered to Wade Blank, co-founder of the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT). "However," we cannot condone disruption of Detroit city services." Parks had said she would appear at a Sunday, Oct. 5, news conference and possibly lead a march across Detroit. Steele said that Parks "supports active peaceful protest of human rights issues, not tactics that will embarrass the city's guests and cripple the city's present transportation system.“ Blank said he asked Steele how their tactics differed from those used by Parks and other blacks to fight segregation in the South in the 1950s and 1960s but she was unable to provide him with a satisfactory answer. Parks is credited with igniting the civil rights movement when she refused to give up her seat to a white man on a Montgomery, Ala. bus in 1956. Parks' defiant action caused a Montgomery minister, Martin Luther King, Jr. to organize a black boycott of that city's buses. Detroit Mayor Coleman Young and CBS newsman Ed Bradley — both black -- were scheduled to address the national convention of the American Public Transit Association (APTA) and reportedly asked Parks not to embarrass them by participating in the ADAPT action. Blank said that Parks had wavered once or twice in the weeks before the convention, but that he had managed to persuade her to stick to her original decision. But less than a week before the convention opened, Parks and her staff met in long session, and decided to support ADAPT. The Handicapped Coloradan has so far been unable to reach Parks or her representatives to learn what made her change her mind so suddenly. Blank said that he "wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Chrysler or Ford told her that they wouldn't contribute to the Rosa L. Parks Shrine if she went through with the action.” Parks is currently involved in raising money to commemorate her role and that of other blacks in the struggle for equality. But Blank stopped short of condemning Parks, saying that the 74-year-old leader has earned the respect of everyone for her actions in the 1950s. He said, "Maybe it just isn't her time any more. If I had known we were going to put her on the spot like this, I wouldn't have done it. She was under a lot of pressure. Apparently the phone never stopped ringing.” However, Blank had plenty to say about Bradley, who is a regular on the highly rated television news program "60 Minutes." Before giving a speech on apartheid in South Africa, Bradley told the 2300 APTA delegates that ADAPT had asked him not to appear at the convention. Bradley said he talked with both Young and Parks and all three agreed that they did not approve of the tactics used by the disabled group. Blank said he tried to contact Bradley by phone on at least six different occasions during the two months preceding the convention but was never able to get past his secretary." "We wanted to explain our position, but he apparently wasn't interested. This may tell you just how much homework they do on ‘6O Minutes.' Maybe people who make their living by intimidating others can't take it themselves," Blank said, referring to the often adversarial approach used on the program. “Blank said he was never able to ‘get through to Young directly but a member of Young's staff said they were welcome to ride the city's buses. "Then they arrested us for doing just that," he said. The state of Michigan requires that all transit systems receiving state funds be wheelchair accessible, but the city of Detroit avoids that requirement by financing its own transit system. Representatives of the suburban Southeastern Michigan Transportation Authority (SEMTA), which is accessible, said it would be willing to introduce a pro-accessibility resolution at the next APTA convention if it can find two or three co-sponsors, according to Blank. Young defended ‘Detroit's policy at a news conference by saying that he couldn't "make gold out of straw" to pay for the lifts. Young attacked ADAPT for employing “sabotage and sensationalism” and accused the group of taking "advantage of their disabilities" to block buses and get publicity for their cause. “That's not the way to win cooperation," he said. Blank said the only time people in power take notice of disabled people is when they engage in civil disobedience, pointing out the efforts their opponents made to discredit ADAPT. “The police told us that APTA had told them we were urban terrorists." He said he was sure few people in Detroit knew of the difficulties encountered by persons with disabilities in using public transit before ADAPT hit town. Blank said he tried to get Jesse Jackson and his rainbow coalition to support ADAPT in Detroit, but every time he telephoned he was told that “Jesse was in the air" flying to another appearance. Some members of Jackson's other group, PUSH, did participate in some of the Detroit demonstrations. Blank said he was saddened that so many blacks could not understand ADAPT's motives. “I guess it was just one human race story running up against another" he said. PHOTO: The dark figures of 3 Detroit police officers loom into the frame from all sides. Through a small hole between their arms you can see the face and chest of a man (Ken Heard) they are surrounding. Below their arms you can see the wheels and frame Ken's wheelchair. Caption reads: Detroit police had their hands full when they placed Ken Heard under arrest. Title of 2nd article: 54 arrested in transit showdown [This article is continued in ADAPT 295 but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] At least 54 demonstrators were arrested in Detroit as disabled groups once again laid siege to a national convention of their arch-foe, the American Public Transit Association (APTA). Seventeen or 18 protesters (accounts vary) were arrested Monday, Oct. 6, when they attempted to board -- and block -- Detroit city buses, which are mostly not equipped with wheelchair lifts. Those arrested were released on a $l00 personal bond and were ordered not to participate in any actions that would lead to a second arrest. The next day, Tuesday, Oct. 7, 37 protesters, including 13 repeat offenders, were booked by police for blocking one of the two entrances to the McNamara federal office building. Twenty-four of these were released after posting the $100 personal bond apiece, but the repeat offenders had bail set at $1,000 each. Even as the protesters, primarily members of the militant American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT), began pouring into Detroit Friday night, the Wayne County jail was already filled to its 1700 person capacity and was turning away all prisoners charged with misdemeanors. The 13 two-time offenders were held Tuesday night in a gym at police headquarters which has bars on the windows and which has been used on other occasions as a holding area for prisoners waiting to be incarcerated. Ironically, the gym's facilities were not accessible to persons in wheelchairs, and police were obliged to carry their disabled prisoners when they needed to use the restrooms. Outside police headquarters, another 60 demonstrators gathered and staged an all-night candlelight vigil. As in other cities where ADAPT has staged demonstrations in its fight to win mandatory accessible public transit, the police said they were in a [unreadable.] More than one officer complained that you can't help but look bad when you arrest someone in a wheelchair. The Detroit police had received briefings from other cities visited by ADAPT and had given some special training to officers in dealing with disabled protesters. ADAPT had originally been granted a parade permit to stage a march on the Westin Hotel where APTA conventioneers were meeting, but Mayor Coleman Young and police went to the city council and got the permit rescinded. No parade permit was issued when ADAPT marched on APTA in Los Angeles, but police made no attempt to push the marchers off the streets and in fact routed traffic away from the demonstrators. However, in Detroit police dogged ADAPT marchers for two miles, making [unreadable] protesters stuck to the sidewalks, even when obstacles such as a large puddle of water hampered, their progress. ADAPT spokesperson Wade Blank said the Detroit action cost $20,000 and that the group was seeking additional financial assistance to continue to press their fight, which has taken them to APTA's national conventions in Denver, Washington, D.C., and Los Angeles, as well as to regional meetings in San Antonio, San Diego, and Cincinnati. Blank said several reporters asked him about reports that ADAPT was being funded by lift manufacturers. “I’m sure someone with APTA planted that question to try and discredit us,” he said. Blank said ADAPT had received contributions of $100 each from two lift manufacturers but that this was for other projects. “Besides, that isn’t enough to make bail for more than two people." APTA'S 1987 convention is set for San Francisco and ADAPT is already beginning to lay the groundwork for disrupting that meeting. “People ask why we do these kinds of things (civil disobedience)," Blank said. “But look how much publicity we get. People are finally getting the word about what public transit really means to someone in a wheelchair.” California has required all public transit systems to convert to accessible systems as they replace old equipment, but Blank said he’s heard that there have been some problems with the Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) in recent months. But before they head for San Francisco, ADAPT has been asked by disabled groups in Boston for assistance in setting up a program to pursue accessible transit there.
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Handicapped Coloradan October 1987 Title: 123 arrested in San Francisco ADAPT blocks cable cars For years San Francisco area disabled rights activists chose to look the other way as that city's historic cable cars transported tourists and locals up and down the steep hills in cars inaccessible to persons in wheelchairs. And then ADAPT (the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit) hit town. On Tuesday, Sept. 29, scores of wheelchair militants dodged police barricades and, hauled their wheelchairs onto the cable car turntable at Market Street. Protesters managed to prevent the cable cars from moving for more than two hours until police cut the chains they were using to attach their wheelchairs to the turntable. Of the 75 protesters arrested on the spot, 43 were booked and spent the night on cots in the county prison gymnasium on the seventh floor of the Hall of Justice. Outside the hall, 80 persons in wheelchairs maintained a candlelight vigil throughout the night. Many tourists were upset with the protesters, yelling at them that they were ruining their vacation. Protesters replied that the tourists' inconvenience would last only a few hours, while they faced a lifetime of inaccessible public transportation. ADAPT was in San Francisco to make just that point to the several thousand delegates attending the national convention of the American Public Transit Association (APTA), a trade group which represents most of the country's transit providers. Some 123 demonstrators were arrested during the San Francisco protest. "Every year it's a new record for the Guinness book," said Wade Blank, one of ADAPT's founders. Many of the other arrests took place as wheelchair activists blocked buses and streets to prevent APTA delegates from attending social functions outside the convention hall. A highlight of the week-long action was a Sunday parade when more than 500 demonstrators formed an eight-block-long river of wheelchairs. "It's got to be one of the most moving and impressive sights I've ever witnessed," Blank said. San Francisco police complimented the demonstrators on their organizational abilities, according to Blank. "We couldn't have done this a few years ago," he said. Blank said one of the highlights of the week for him was when police stopped APTA's executive director Jack Gilstrap from climbing over a fence to avoid a confrontation with the demonstrators.
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Handicapped Coloradan [Headline] The night they drove old APTA down Photo: About a half dozen folks in wheelchairs and one standing person sit together in the parking lot by a van and the entrance to the Holiday Inn Days Inn. Some are in manual wheelchairs, others in electric wheelchairs. They are faced toward the hotel and away from the camera. Caption reads: In our motel parking lot. By RENATE CONRAD Special to the Handicapped Coloradan Friday, Sept. 22-Arrived at the Days Inn in Atlanta at 9:15 p.m. Got room assignments and collected luggage. Saturday, Sept. 23-Bob and I went to the Hotel Hilton at 10:45 pm. to request press passes. We were told to come back between l p.m. and 6 p.m. to talk to Albert Engelken, PR person for APTA. 5:15 p.m.—Returned to the Hilton. Mr. Engelken had left for the day, We were asked to return in the morning at 9a.m. l-5:15 p.m.-First meeting. Topics discussed included the ADA bill and the Air Carriers Act. Some comments: "Everyone thought it was a joke when 35 people started ADAPT, but now no one is laughing. . . You’ve created a Utopia."-Wade Blank “Paratransit is a gun to disabled persons’ heads . . . We've taken the bullets out of the gun."-Arthur Campbell, Jr. "We've sent a message to Bush that we are serious." There was a good deal of applause and then the conversation shifted from the ADA bill to transportation. Julie Farrar from Los Angeles said that she had been to a large human resources conference given by APTA. In the course of the conference it was stated that “everything would be accessible if it wasn‘t for ADAPT." This was greeted with obvious boos and hisses. Later Julie Farrar told the group that Fred Curry of the Greyhound Company said, "If the ADA passes as it is the private bus industry will go broke." After that introductions were made and strategies discussed as to the next day. It was decided that there would be a march beginning at l:30 from Hurt Park to the Hilton Hotel where APTA is staying. Sunday, 9:15 a.m., Hilton Hotel - Albert Engelkin, PR for APTA, met with us. We asked him if he thought the ADA bill will pass "Yes " he said. “I feel that it will. Now we must ask that ADAPT join with us to go to congress and get monies to pay for our effort, the cost being $6 billion. This is a 20-year plan. Now we must come up with a marketing plan." Received press packet and pass with very little difficulty. The only problem was finding the correct elevator. We got a few strange looks entering and leaving the elevators, and many people were noticeably relieved to see our yellow press passes. The only comment we got from the PR director was that “APTA was a little nervous about people in wheelchairs." 11:30 Amid cries of “Access now!" "We will ride!" and "Access is a civil right!" a large flag is unfurled, with red and white stripes and stars on a background of blue that form the shape of a wheelchair. The march to the Hilton begins. lt is a long pull. Atlanta is a very hilly city, which comes as quite as a surprise because I had always envisioned it to be a rather flat place. Cries of “We will ride!" ring out along the way as approximately 200 people make the long haul to the Hilton. When we reach the front of the line and look down the street, we see a four-block-long procession of bumper to bumper wheelchairs. l spoke with four different police officers and was given an estimate of between l8 and 150 police pulling extra duty for this "parade." We reached the hotel and within minutes the barriers were in place. At that point the press was informed that NO press was being allowed inside. The question was then asked, "When will the press be allowed in?" The answer, from Major Holly of the Atlanta police, was: “That depends on the hotel." Later press members were allowed to talk to Jack Gilstrap of APTA, who stated that “there is a great deal of opposition to the ADA bill." NO ARRESTS were made. Monday, Sept. 25, 11 a.m.—At the Hilton Hotel, Secretary Samuel Skinner gave a rousing speech. He said they had completed the outreach portion of their policy, that the needs and problems of the population concerning transportation were discussed, and that they had spoken with citizens and businessmen alike and that early January was the projected time for the policy to be released. "We must look at the forest rather than the trees." The first priority is that 40 percent of the unemployed are in the cities, the second priority is finding a way to get people to jobs. “There is a greater need for state and local moneys,” he said. “[The ADA] is not a new issue, but an issue that has been around too long. We need mainstream access as soon as possible. There has been a lot of give and take. It's not perfect, but we support the legislation. "l ask how can we achieve our goal of total access? We must find a way to make it happen. We need to be concerned about dollars, but this legislation is not a sham or a shell. Access for personal and business reasons is our goal. "Why should a skilled worker be left at home because we are not smart enough to get them to work?" Bob and I chase Skinner through the kitchen area after his speech and catch him as he is getting into the elevator. As we were attending the meeting at the Hilton, people had gotten into the Federal Building and blocked it off with 125 people inside. Tuesday, Sept. 26, 7 a.m.-By executive order President Bush asked that blankets, food and cots be brought into the Federal Building to accommodate the protesters. No arrests were made. Amid chants of "Access now!" and horns blasting, protesters who have been up all night block doors into the Federal Building. 12:50 p.m.—ADAPT members capture the elevators. 1:50 p.m. - l have been told that they are trying to get the President's office on the phone. 2:01 p.m. - Police ask for cooperation to get a meeting set up. 2:07 p.m. - People are meeting with UMPTA now. 2:15 p.m.- Agreement has been reached . . . no arrests have been made. (See text reprinted elsewhere in paper.) 12:45-4:30 p.m.—Went down to the cafeteria. At that time elevators were again shut off and we could not get b[ack] to the first floor lobby. 4:30 p.m.—Maintenance personnel turn elevators back on. 4:45 p.m.—Back to the hotel. Wednesday, Sept. 27—Chanting "We will ride!" 27 people were arrested at the Greyhound Terminal after blocking and chaining themselves to buses. They were taken to jail in a lift-equipped bus and released on their own personal recognizance. Criminal trespassing and disorderly conduct were the charges filed. The bus station and buses were in turmoil for five hours, starting from 3:30 when the protest began. Thursday, Sept. 28 - Home!! Photo 2: In a low-ceilinged room with folding partitions pushed back the big group of ADAPT folks is gathered, facing approximately in a circle. Wade Blank is standing on a chair or something so he is above the crowd, with his right hand held up, he is speaking. Behind him Lincoln is standing. In front Bernard Baker is looking over his shoulder at the camera. Kate Jackson has her back to the camera as do many others in the room. Through these people you can see Mike Auberger's head and someone else's head. A line of people sit across from Wade. There are a couple dozen people visible in the meeting. Caption: Everyone thought it was a joke when 35 people started ADAPT.
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The Handicapped Coloradan Small Text Box: If you feel like spending a few days In Washington, D.C. this March, give Wade Blank or Mike Auberger a ring at (303) 936-1110. They've got a tour of the Capitol Building that most travel agencies don't offer. PHOTO (by Tom Olin): Joe Carle, Diane Coleman, Bob Kafka and Mark Johnson, all in wheelchairs and dressed in revolutionary garb lead a march under the leafy trees of Philadelphia's historic district. They have tri-cornered hats, jackets with fancy buttons, ruffled shirts, a fife and drum. Behind the front of the line Ann ___ is visible, as well as other marchers. Diane carries the ADAPT flag and Joe has another dark flag on a tall pole. Caption: Militants could seize capitol rotunda -- Dressed In Revolutionary War garb, several ADAPT members rolled toward the Liberty Bell while the U.S. Court of Appeals was ruling that disabled people have a right to public transit. Many of these same activists are heading for Washington, D.C. on Mar. 10, in an attempt to get Congress to pass the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1989. Protesters intend to leave their wheelchairs and crawl up the steps of the Capitol Building while Congress is in session. Article begins: ADAPT sets roll on D.C. To prod ADA passage Still a mile high following their victory in Atlanta last fall, disabled activists from across the country are planning on rolling on the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C., to demand that lawmakers pass the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1989. The act, which grants sweeping civil rights to disabled people (much as the 1965 Civil Rights Act aided blacks), has passed the Senate but is currently bogged down in four House committees, and no one expects a vote earlier than Feb. 28 by the full House membership. Disabled militants, mostly members of the Denver-based American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT), are planning on arriving in Washington on March 10. "If the bill is still in committee at that time, we're going to treat it as if the bill is in trouble," said ADAPT founder Wade Blank, co-director of the Atlantis Community, a Denver independent living health care provider. Blank said that disabled lobbyists in Washington have warned ADAPT to avoid the confrontational politics that it has used in other cities while battling its arch-nemesis, the American Public Transit Association (APTA). The professional lobbyists said it is not advisable to upset Congress, according to Blank. That's too bad, Blank said, because "we're telling them right here and now that we're going in and kicking ass.” Blank expects several hundred will participate in the march on the capitol, with about 125 of the protesters prepared to leave their chairs and crawl upon the capitol steps while other militants sneak in and seize the rotunda itself. If all that works out, it could be ADAPT’s biggest action so far in its seven-year struggle to force transit companies to put a lift on every bus in the country. The federal government unofficially agreed to support that goal in a deal hammered out between representatives of ADAPT and President Bush in Atlanta last October. Part of that deal called upon the President to push for disabled rights in his State of the Union address, which he did, much to the satisfaction of ADAPT, which Blank described as being “very pleased” with Bush. “Now we're going to smoke out a few Democrats," he said. When the agreement was reached in Atlanta, two cities had already started the process of purchasing non-lift equipped buses. Since then Pittsburgh has reversed its position and agreed to buy only accessible buses, while Albuquerque refused to consider altering its plans. “They’ll go down in history as the last city in America to buy lift-less buses," Blank said. In the months since Atlanta, ADAPT has switched its attention to pushing for lifts on intercity coaches. To that end some 45 wheelchair demonstrators were in Dallas Jan. 21-24 to picket a joint meeting of the American Bus Association (ABA) and the United Bus Owners of America (UBOA). Greyhound, the largest intercity bus company, is headquartered in Dallas. Most of those demonstrators were participating in their first action, which Blank said proves that ADAPT is continuing to grow in strength and power. On the first day, pickets blocked the entrance to the conference hotel with relatively little fireworks. But on Monday, Jan. 22, the protesters hit the Greyhound depot where some 29 demonstrators were arrested for blocking buses. Twenty of those were first-time arrestees. Trial has been set for Feb. 12. On the third day, protesters stormed in the exposition hall and interrupted a trade show demonstrating the latest advances in bus design. Most of that design had nothing to do with helping wheelchair riders get on board, Blank said. UBOA president Wayne Smith, who has published articles in the New York Times arguing against the transit provisions of the ADA, decided not to call in the police, and for three hours militant wheelchair protesters engaged in debate with professional transit providers. “It was a very successful happening,” Blank said. He said he hoped that spirit would hold true for the Washington, D.C., action, where he expects to see more first-time protesters. A seminar on ADAPT’S history and tactics is set for Mar. 10 at the Comfort Inn on H Street in northwestern Washington, where neophyte activists are urged to go even if they are planning to stay elsewhere during the action. Although the ADA covers all disabilities, this action, called the “Wheels of Justice," will center on the rights of the mobility-impaired. Blank said he tried to coordinate his action with other groups, including the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), but was rebuffed. “They don't think of themselves as disabled,” he said. “And that’s fine.” (For more on this topic see Homer Page’s column on page 2, “The ADA and the Blind.”) Some blind advocacy groups, including the NFB, have argued that they don't want adaptive devices, such as special buttons on street corners, written into the bill. “We don't need them," said Page, who is vice president of the Colorado NFB chapter. Those people wishing to participate in ADAPT‘s “Wheels of Justice" should contact Blank or Mike Auberger at (303) 936-1110. PHOTO: Medium close up of Wade Blank from the waist up. He is smiling, wearing dark sun glasses and a vest. His below shoulder length blondish hair is parted in the middle. This text covers the article that appears in 537 and 538.
ADAPT (778)
The Handicapped Coloradan A newsmagazine of the disability rights movement [This story continues in ADAPT 770, 759, 777, 769, 758 and 776 but the full text is included here for easier reading.] Photo by Tom Olin: On a downtown city intersection, a huge line of protesters in wheelchairs and walking wraps around a city street corner, down the full length of the block and out of sight. Motorcycle policemen ride alongside at several points. On the corner and in the crosswalk pedestrians look on. Title: ADAPT rolls into San Francisco In October 1992 scores of ADAPT members staged demonstrations in San Francisco. One of those demonstrators, Laura Hershey, kept a diary of those events. Six days in San Francisco Special Report to The Handicapped Coloradan What ADAPT has got, the thing that makes you difierent from other `groups`, is you realize that there's a war going on-—that people are dying, and locked up, and being tortured. —Johnny Creschendo, British musician, poet, & disability-rights activist The peaceable warriors of ADAPT took it to the streets of San Francisco this fall, protesting policies and institutions that limit freedom for people who are older or disabled. On Saturday, October 17, 300 members of the American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT) checked into the Ramada Hotel Civic Center on Market Street. Five days and 162 arrests later, the group left town, having raised the stakes once again in the battle against compulsory nursing home placement. ADAPT is demanding the creation of a national system of attendant services, to be available to anyone needing assistance to live independently, regardless of age, diagnosis, or geographical location. The funds for such a program, according to ADAPT, should come from diverting 25 percent of the federal money currently spent on institutionalizing people in nursing homes. This year, the federal nursing home budget is around $28 billion; ADAPT wants $7 billion transferred to in-home attendant services. This plan is being opposed by nursing home owners, and lacks the support of the federal government. Both came under attack by ADAPT, as did the two major presidential campaigns. The following is one participant‘s day-by-day report of the week’s events. PHOTO by Tom Olin: A man in a power chair (Mike Auberger) faces off with a policeman who has his hands on Mike's knees. All around Mike and the police other ADAPT protesters are gathered, some listening and watching the two, others looking ahead. Caption reads: Cops tug at demonstrator at Federal Center. Mike Auberger, one of the founders of ADAPT, meets up with San Francisco police. Article continues... Saturday: Day One Activists from the Bay Area hold a rally in Pioneer Square. Four of us, having arrived early with ADAPT’s advance team, decide to go check out the rally. We get there right at 2 p.m., when the gathering is supposed to begin; we are the first ones there, except for a dozen or so cops. Soon, however, Connie Arnold, Peter Mendoza, and a few other folks from the disability community show up, with arm bands, flyers, and a megaphone. Gradually a crowd of 40 or 50 gathers. As a gesture of support for ADAPT, the rally’s timing seems a little off, since most ADAPTers won’t arrive until later today. But at least it’s one way to encourage the involvement of some local people who, for one reason or another, won’t be joining the ADAPT protests. And locals do have a compelling interest here: California, once regarded almost as a disability utopia because of is generous and consumer-controlled services, is now experiencing harsh cutbacks due to a state budget crunch. Some in the community are beginning to realize that a nationwide system is needed. A few speakers introduce the issues: the cuts in personal assistance services, and the monopoly exercised by the nursing home industry. Then individuals are invited to come before the crowd and describe their own experiences with personal assistance services, independent living, and/or institutionalization. Sunday: Day Two Members of ADAPT from throughout the country, having rested a bit from the previous day’s traveling, gather in the hotel’s huge meeting room. The four-hour training covers ADAPT’s history and purposes, the basics of civil disobedience, and a tentative outline of the week’s activities, including the convention of the American Health Care Association (AHCA), which represents the nursing home industry. (The convention is the main reason ADAPT chose San Francisco this time around). Like most ADAPT meetings, this one is part strategy session, part pep rally. Mike Auberger, Stephanie Thomas, Shel Trapp, and others remind the group of our previous successes and our proven collective power. Meanwhile, the back of the room bustles with the buying and selling of T-shirts, jewelry, luggage tags, books, bandanas, and other ADAPT-logoed paraphernalia. These entrepreneurial activities are an important fundraising strategy; local chapters use the proceeds from these sales to help pay members’ travel expenses to ADAPT actions. With the introductory business taken care of, the group discussion turns to immediate plans. AHCA delegates are arriving today and will attend a cocktail party this evening. Since our arrival, the word has been passed that we would hit the Marriott Hotel, where the AHCA delegates are staying. But we don’t want the police to know that until we get here. So at the meeting, Auberger announces that our target is a cocktail party at the Moscone Convention Center. The meeting ends. People disperse to grab late lunches and/or bathroom breaks. Then we reassemble in the lobby at 4 p.m., lining up and dividing into color-coded teams. This preparation period is always busy but fun: hand-printed placards and duct tape are passed up and down the line, turning wheelchairs and bodies into mobile signboards with slogans like “NURSING HOMES = DEATH" and “MY HOME, NOT A NURSING. ” This is also a time of socializing and reunion, punctuated by shrieks of recognition, hugs, sharing of news. As we await our marching orders, we meet new people and greet friends we haven’t seen since the Chicago actions back in May or the Orlando actions a year ago. Finally we head out, marching single file down the middle of the street. We chant along the way: “FREE OUR BROTHERS, FREE OUR SISTERS, FREE OUR PEOPLE NOW!” and "UP WITH ATTENDANT CARE, DOWN WITH NURSING HOMES!” The police dutifully block the traffic, providing a safe and visible route through city streets to our destination. Our relationship with the police is a strange and sometimes contradictory one: they play a dual role, both adversary and escort. Along our route some are courteous, some indifferent. Here we don’t engage with them on the same intense level we will later on. When we get to Fourth Street, we stop at the Marriott instead of continuing on to the Moscone Center. We quickly separate into our teams. Despite our efforts to deceive them, the police are ready for us. They have fenced off every entrance with their steel barricades, yellow tape, and armed, heavy-booted officers. But this works fine for us — if they can keep us out, then we can keep everybody else out. Each team takes a different door. I end up posted at the main entrance, in line with a dozen other protestors. A barricade separates us from the door, but we are effectively blocking access for the AHCA delegates, many of whom are trying to return to the hotel after a day of shopping. The sight of these well-dressed men and women, laden with packages, really gets us fired up. Their affluence and conspicuous consumption are their rewards for exploiting the needs of people who are older or disabled. We turn up the volume of our chanting: “PEOPLE ARE DYING, SHAME ON YOU!” and a popular favorite, “WE’RE ADAPT, YOU’RE TRAPPED, GET USED TO IT! ” When the AHCA delegates will look at us at all, they look with contempt. Occasionally one will read a poster on somebody’s wheelchair, and roll their eyes. They talk to each other, ridiculing our words and actions. They feel unfairly singled out for harassment, and they are frustrated and angry at our ability to prevent them from moving freely in and out of the hotel. One guy comes right up to me and starts shouting above my head at the cop standing behind me: “Are you going to allow this? What are you going to do about this?” The officer tries to explain that they can’t just rough up a bunch of disabled people; somebody might get hurt. The AHCA guy thinks that’s absurd. He says he wants to go down to the police station and file some kind of complaint against us. When he stops talking, I tell him that his is how people in nursing homes must feel, confined against their will. “Well, there’s two sides to every story, ” he says. He goes on to insist that the people in nursing homes want to be there. I notice that his official name badge has a tag on it that says “AHCA PAC.” He is part of the organization’s political action committee, which lobbies Congress for more nursing home dollars. He is really angry. For a moment I am afraid he’s going to have a heart attack right there on the sidewalk. But he eventually gives up and leaves. The standoff continues for a couple of hours. The police do manage to open an entrance through the garage, and allow hotel guests in while barricading protestors out. Finally the word comes around, through ADAPT’s mysterious but effective communication system, that we are going to declare victory and go back to our hotel. We march back the same way we came, again chanting all the way. That evening, and indeed most of the next four evenings, our coverage on the TV news attests to the impact of our message and of our action. It’s not easy to get coverage in a city with so much going on, including a protest every other day or so. But they haven’t seen protests like this in a while. Monday: Day Three Today we will hit two targets at once. For months, ADAPT has been calling and writing to President George Bush and to Governor Bill Clinton, demanding that they endorse the ADAPT plan for a national attendant services program. Neither has given a satisfactory response, although Clinton has been getting closer and closer. He has declared his support for a national system of guaranteed, consumer-driven attendant services. Yet he still hadn’t made clear how he would finance the program, whether he would take on the nursing home industry and procure the money from that budget. So today we will try to take over both candidates’ local campaign offices. The Bush office is a particularly juicy target; Bush, despite his much-touted signing of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), is an unpopular figure with many of us. The reasons range from his penchant for cutting social programs to his militaristic foreign policy to his anti-abortion stance—but also because it’s his administration, his Secretary of Health and Human Services, which has resisted our demands for guaranteed attendant services for the past two years. When the day’s assignments are made, several people request going to Bush headquarters, feeling that he is a more loathsome foe. But some of us feel it's just as important to put pressure on Clinton—or perhaps even more important, since polls show he is likely to be the next president. We all march together down Van Ness Street, again following a route cleared of traffic by police on foot and on motorcycle. At Republican headquarters, half of our group breaks away and charges the building. These protestors are barred from entering by police, but they manage to block the doors for a time. Staff members are hostile, refusing even to discuss the issue under these circumstances. Ultimately, the police forcibly move protestors away from the entrance. PHOTO by Tom Olin: A mass of ADAPT people in wheelchairs fills a sidewalk and most of the picture, with a handful of police officers in their dark uniforms, standing in front of a building. Caption reads: AT GOP headquarters. Article continues... The Clinton headquarters turns out to be a friendlier place, although it takes some time for the import of our message to be fully understood. Several dozen protestors take the front door, where the staff had ordered ramps built in anticipation of our actions. Thirty more or dash around to the back, where there are a couple of entrances through a small garage. (I’m in this group.) We encounter no resistance, and we quickly fill most of the room’s available space. As soon as we have staked our territory, we begin chanting the usual refrains, so loudly that it’s difficult for the workers to conduct their telephone business. In a strange and unexpected response, somebody begins cutting and serving a large cake! So on the spot, we invent new chants: “CAKE IS NOT ENOUGH—FREE OUR PEOPLE NOW” and “CUT THE CAKE, CUT THE CRAP, CLINTON’S GOT TO FACE ADAPT!” AND “COME ON CLINTON, COME ON GORE, DON’T IGNORE US ANYMORE!” For a while we just hang out with the staffers. Some are aloof, some visibly annoyed by our presence. Good liberals they may be, but they can’t see anything outside this game of politics—they don’t like it when people break the rules. Others, however, take a little time to talk with us, to ask questions and try to understand our issues. I talk with one young woman who wants to know more about our demands. She admits she doesn’t feel Clinton is addressing all of her issues either, but she’s working for him because she hopes he'll be better than Bush. She encourages us to keep pushing Clinton after the election. “Don’t worry, we will,” I tell her. Word comes from near the front of the building that efforts are underway to contact Bill Clinton in Michigan, where he is getting ready for the campaign’s final debate that evening. No word back from him yet. Meanwhile, in the back, negotiations begin over more mundane matters. The office director, Willie Fletcher, assures us that we can stay as long as we like—but he asks us to let his people get to the bathroom. We huddle to consider this. We come back with a deal: turn off all the computers for the rest of the day, and we’ll allow access to the bathrooms. After all, our objective today isn’t to cause severe discomfort; it’s to halt the office’s work for the day, in order to get Clinton’s attention. Fletcher readily agrees to this proposition. “Shut ‘em off! ” he orders his staff. We catch a few cheaters later, but by and large the workers abide by the agreement. Now we reach a kind of detente with the office staff. Most seem resigned to our presence; a few actively seek dialog with us. Fletcher tells me he has no intention of calling the police—unless we want him to. Would it help our cause more to have some arrests? I give a vague answer, put the ball back in his court. He only repeats that we’re welcome to stay. Some remain hostile, however. One young man, determined to leave through the door we’re blocking, bullies his way between the dense cluster of people and wheelchairs. He pushes hard, not stopping and not caring who he hurts in the process. We shout at him to stop, but he ignores us. Later he returns and wants to re-enter. Our reaction is immediate, and so strong that Fletcher comes over to see what’s wrong. “This guy is a jerk!” we yell. “He is not getting back in here!” Fletcher orders the kid to get lost. “Don’t come back today! ” Fletcher calls after him. For the rest of the day, we hold our post, waiting for news. Finally, Fletcher receives a statement from Little Rock, which he presents at the front door. It isn’t everything we want, but it’s a start. In it, Clinton vows to establish a Task Force on Attendant Services within the first 100 days of his administration. He also promises that ADAPT will have at least one slot on that Task Force. We stay a while longer. Staffers wind up their work for the day, and collect around a color television. People begin arriving for the debate party, When they realize they can’t get in, they gather behind us in the garage, sitting on crates or standing. Fletcher brings a small TV over to the door, so they - and we — can watch. About halfway through the debate, ADAPT declares another victory, and leaves. Fletcher wishes us luck. PHOTO by Tom Olin: A woman in a white blouse with a political button, purses her lips as she looks out over the crowd. Her back is to the building, and beside her a man in a wheelchair (Bob Kafka) speaks over a bullhorn. Both are on a platform above the sidewalk with a railing and a large crowd of ADAPT protesters is on the street below. Caption reads: A visit with the Dems article continues... Tuesday: Day Four Today we hit the Federal Building, at Number One United Nations Plaza. This is the place that disability rights activists occupied for several weeks in 1978, to protest the government's failure to establish regulations implementing Section 504 of the 1973 Rehabilitation Act. It’s also the site of a continuous AIDS vigil. Staffed by volunteers 24 hours a day, the vigil’s purpose is to call attention to the U.S. government’s inaction in the face of the AIDS crisis and to disseminate information on services and prevention. I’ve spoken to several of these folks over the past several days, and they are very much in support of our actions. People disabled by AIDS too often end up dying in nursing homes, for lack of the in-home assistance they need. With our chairs, we quickly blockade every entrance to the Federal Building, including the driveway sloping down into a garage. Federal police threaten us with arrest; we hold our ground. It’s the city police, however, who soon start moving in. Things heat up fast. They start hauling us away from the doorways, putting into practice their days of training before our arrival. Mayor Feinstein’s disability advisor and another local advocate were assigned to instruct the officers in how to forcibly arrest people with disabilities, how to lock and unlock wheelchair brakes, and how to disengage motors in order to push chairs manually. The cop I encountered obviously hadn’t paid close enough attention. He comes up behind me and orders me to move. I refuse. He reaches down to disengage my gears so he can move me. But he grabs the wrong levers, and puts on my brakes instead! This makes pulling my chair extremely difficult; he has to yank so hard that he nearly tips my chair over. Once they have cleared us away from the doorways, the police quickly erect barriers and form an aisle for the federal employees to walk in and out of the building. For a while, held back on either side of this corridor, all we can do is keep up a steady stream of chanting at the people passing between our two lines. Then, protestors start wheeling into the street, trying to block the entrance to the passageway. Things get even wilder from there. Cops are trying to restrain wheelchairs, both electric and manual. Meanwhile, they’re going after any ambulatory protestors who step out of line. Then people start throwing themselves out of their wheelchairs, trying to scramble between barricades, or just sitting there waiting for arrest. That’s what the police are trying to avoid— what with the hassle, the bad publicity, and the fear of inflicting injuries, arresting people in chairs just isn’t worth it. On the other hand, they do want to shut this down. Faced with few choices, the police start hauling people off. The mass arrest takes hours: two or three at a time, the arrestees are loaded into the lift-equipped vans the city has rented from a local paratransit company. These are the same vehicles, and the same drivers, that transported many of us from the airport. Our ranks diminished by the 49 arrests, we leave the area around the Federal Building. We find a spot nearby for an impromptu meeting. Wade Blank tells the exhausted troops that this has been a very successful action; we can be proud of a day of strength and commitment. He also says that the police expect us to retreat now. Are we up for another demonstration? The response is an enthusiastic Yes! So off we go in the direction of a new target. Again, we have been kept in partial darkness about specifics, to avoid cluing in our eavesdropping hotel security guards. It turns out to be the California State Building. We take its two exits easily, and hold it for the rest of the afternoon. Then we go back to the hotel, where we greet like heroes the returning arrestees. Wednesday: Day Six For two days we’ve given the AHCA delegates a break while we harassed other targets. Now we head back to the Marriott for our parting shot. We follow the usual game plan at the now-familiar building. This time we protest even more intensely, shouting angrily at the passing delegates. Our chants are more pointed: “HO HO, HEY HEY, HOW MANY BEDS DID YOU FILL TODAY?” which evolves into “HO HO, HEY HEY, HOW MANY CRIPS DID YOU KILL TODAY?” The police seem angrier too. Especially two cops near me, guarding a barricade across the hotel’s garage entrance. They delight in making snide comments. When we see two officers handcuffing one of our brothers who has anhritis, his face contorted in pain at the tightness of the cuffs and the angle of his arms, the cop nearest me sneers, “Look at Mr. Hollywood over there.” “They're hurting him! ” we counter. “Aren’t you gong to make them stop?” “Yeah, we’ll get right on that,” one cop laughs. This kind of sarcasm continues throughout the afternoon. I grow more and more uncomfortable and annoyed at the ignorance and disrespect displayed by these two officers. Finally I decide to leave my post at the garage entrance. I don’t abandon it; I find another protestor to take my place. I want to check out some other action. A runner approaches me with a message: “They’re looking for some people to help block traffic at the intersection. Do you want to get arrested?” I had thought not, but my feelings have changed. I can’t stand another minute with the sarcastic cops at my post; and I feel so energized by what’s been happening all week, that I don’t want to miss any part of the experience. With ADAPT, part of the experience is going to jail. It’s by no means the total experience, and I’ve never felt pressured to be arrested to prove my commitment. But suddenly l feel ready, willing, and able. I join the line growing across the street. Traffic has already been diverted, so we’re not causing much of a tie-up. Nevertheless, a few officers arrive, and ask us nicely to go back onto the sidewalk. One by one, we refuse. By now, the police have rehearsed this routine pretty thoroughly. With resigned efficiency, they take us to the waiting vans, where drivers load us on the lifts and tie down our chairs according to California’s strict guidelines. We are taken to Pier 38, down on the waterfront. There, we are herded into two large holding pens. Then, one at a time, we are called up, processed, asked for identification, and issued a citation. After that we are each released. The whole process is excruciatingly thorough, time-consuming, and rather dull. But the officers involved in the entire arrest and booking procedure are courteous and respectful. They offer explanations, and even occasional compliments. A few commend us for our commitment and offer words of support for our cause. Later than evening, everyone collects in our hotel conference room for the final events of the week. Business taken care of, the ADAPTers now go all out in a celebration of ourselves, not just as a movement, but as a community. There is a wedding, a very moving ceremony, officiated by the Reverend Wade Blank, as two long-time members of ADAPT declare their love and ask the support of their brothers and sisters. And the group does give its support—enthusiastically, emotionally, loudly! I've never heard so much cheering at a wedding before. The fact that the betrothed are two men doesn’t seem to bother anybody. A gay wedding is perfectly consistent with ADAPT’s principles of equality, inclusiveness, and individual liberty. The evening, and the week, ends with a minicultural festival. ADAPT members share their poetry, music, humor, and visions of the future. The star performers are Johnny Creschendo and Barbara Lysicki, two activists from London, England. They have been with us all week; Barbara’s comedy routines and Johnny’s songs and poems therefore resonate all the more deeply with the experience and goals of the audience. Though we’re all exhausted, we join in singing Johnny’s lyrics: I don’t want your benefit We want dignity from where we sit We want choices and rights in our lives I don't want you to speak for me Just listen and then you'll see We’ve got choices and rights in our lives Choices and rights, that’s What we’ve got to fight for- Choices and rights in our lives! ” PHOTO by Tom Olin: A man in a wheelchair (Bob Kafka) is doubled over forward in his lap, arms zip-tied to his chair. Two police stand beside him one, holding a white board that has his arrest details on it. Other police are partially in the picture, one taking the arrest photo, another with a fist full of zip-ties. Behind Bob Tisha Auberger is standing looking over her shoulder. Caption reads: At the Federal Center. If you'd like to join ADAPT for fun and freedom in Washington, D.C this May, just call Mike Auberger at (303) 733-9324