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Início / Albuns / Etiqueta Tari Susan Hartman 3
ADAPT (740)
Photo by Tom Olin?: A huge crowd of ADAPT folks are gathered on the stree and sidewalk in front of the Regional HHS headquarters, a building with ornate lamps on its front. The crowd faces the building and fills the street. Visible are Jimmi Shrode (in the purple shirt) Claude Holcomb (in the forground, hair in braids, with a black and red jacket over the back of his chair. Gene Rodgers (with his back to the building in a grey cap), Frank McGee (in a black Tshirt and ADAPT headband) Tari Susan Hartman (visible just over Jimmi's left shoulder) and dozens and dozens of other protesters. [If you can identify others please contact us so we can include their names.]
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 (572)
WHEN IS TOO MUCH: "Helping" the Disabled by Mary McKnew Just as airplane pilots want assurance that a plane's steering wheel won‘t come off while flying over Europe, people utilizing a bus wheelchair lift deserve to expect that the lift will operate in a safe and predictable manner. However, I have to admit that too much focus on “safety” issues has me a little worried. To some transit officials, “safety” issues in providing transportation services for people with disabilities raise old stereotypes of helplessness and can quickly become a rationale for imposing paternalistic policies. For example, here in Olympia, the local Intercity Transit Authority and the state's Department of General Administration are co-sponsoring a shuttle service between the capitol and downtown Olympia with routes passing other major states offices. With the local parking problem, this system is extremely convenient. From the beginning, all vans used in the service have been equipped with wheelchair lifts. All this, of course, is very commendable. So, what's the problem? Unfortunately, the van's tie-down system, lack of grab-bars and driver policies reflect a paternalistic attitude towards disabled passengers by promoting dependence in the name of safety. The tie-down system is one of the most primitive I have ever encountered. It uses straps to bind each of a wheelchair's four wheels to the floor in a rather intricate system that takes the driver approximately five minutes to accomplish. To tie-down a wheelchair, the driver must get on his or her hands and knees. Thus, it is not possible for even very mobile wheelchair users to accomplish this independently. However, once the straps are in place, none of the wheels will move even a centimeter. During this five minute routine, other van passengers wait outside (some glancing at their watches) until the driver folds the lift back in place and allows them to board. After being strapped down, the driver then will place a seat-belt around the wheelchair user. Seat belts are not available for other passengers. If the wheelchair user decides to reject use of a seat belt, the driver will attempt (sometimes loud) persuasion, finally telephoning into the office to report that the passenger has refused use of the belt. I use a wheelchair for mobility due to a low and incomplete spinal cord injury. I object to many of the features in the Intercity Transit system that, to me, are designed on the premise that people with disabilities will always need a lot of assistance from the driver. Although the driver should be trained and willing to provide assistance if it is requested, the system should be designed to promote maximum independence. Most tie-down systems can be easily manipulated by most wheelchair uses with finger movement. Although some wheelchair users need a seat belt due to problems with balance, drivers should not assume they are needed by all such passengers. A policy that requires a driver to phone in to report a passenger's rejection of the seat belt is founded on the belief that people with disabilities are incapable of making sound decisions regarding their own safety. Additionally, although grab-bars are located along the ceiling walls of other seats, none are available near the tie-down area. Thus, if the bus lurches while enroute, a wheelchair passenger has nothing to hold onto. I suppose this makes it more likely a wheelchair passenger will comply with the seat belt policy, recognizing that a passive restraint is better than none at all. Intercity Transit has been providing paratranslt services to people with disabilities for a number of years. They have moved into the provision of mainline transportation services (i.e., access to the regular bus service) only recently. It appears that they have simply shifted their operating policies and procedures from one system to the other without considering if these are applicable to the new service. I have brought my objections to Intercity Transit’s attention. Although the staff disagree with most, they are reconsidering others. Safety is a concern to people who use wheelchair lifts. However, we cannot allow it to become a convenient rationale for either eliminating the service or instituting restrictive policies that treat people with disabilities in a disparate manner from other passengers. PHOTO (by Tom Olin): A large crowd marches downhill on a wide street. In the front row a little girl in a wheelchair (Jennifer Keelan) is pushed by her mother (Cindy). Beside them a woman in a motorized wheelchair (Diane Coleman) and a long skirt and white jacket has a sign behind her reading "we the people." Beside her a man in a manual wheelchair (Bob Kafka) with a big salt and pepper beard rolls along. In the row behind, between Bob and Diane, is a woman in a wheelchair (Mary McKnew) and a man who walks (Lannie Schuman) are visible and next to them another man marches behind Diane. Behind Jennifer and Cindy is Tari Susan Hartman. Rows of marchers go further and further back up the street to the top of the hill and presumably beyond. Caption reads: Just to the right at the placard Washington residents Lannie Schuman and Mary McKnew participate in a San Francisco demonstration for transportation rights. ABOUT THE AUTHOR... In 1987, Mary McKnew tried to get arrested for the first time. She sat in front of a San Francisco police van and refused to move. She sat in her wheelchair directly under the wheels of a bus and refused to move. "I did many illegal things." she says wryly. What she did, she did in the name of accessible public transportation for people with disabilities... a personal and political quest McKnew has been following for the past 12 years. Although McKnew wasn't arrested at that demonstration (in spite of her civil disobedience efforts), many others were. More than 500 people organized by the American Disabled tor Accessible Public Transportation (ADAPT) marched through the streets oi San Francisco to the city hall to protest the continuing discriminatory policies supported by the American Public Transit Association (APTA). ADAPT has been a persistent thorn in the side of APTA for many years. Fortunately, their persistence paid off. With the final signing of the Americans With Disabilities Act (ADA) expected any day, ADAPT—- and McKnew — will see many of their demands for fair, accessible transportation become reality. But McKnew says that just because you pass laws doesn't mean you quit being an activist. "The ADA will bring private transit companies under regulations just like public ones," she says, "but just passing a law doesn't mean we solve the problem. implementation is a whole other thing." In part, McKnew was referring to the possibility that some private companies may reduce the seating capacity in some of their smaller vehicles in order to side-step the accessibility requirements mandated by the ADA. "What the ADA will do is provide a clear avenue for lawsuits," she says. Is McKnew planning on handling some of those lawsuits herself? It may be too early to tell. Currently an executive policy assistant in the Office of the Governor, McKnew is also a second-year law student at the University of Puget Sound. (This story continues in the original format on 571 but is included here in its entirety for ease of reading.)