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الرئيسية / الألبومات / كلمة دلائلية Laura Hershey 7
ADAPT (1795)
Mainstream Magazine, April 1993 issue [This article continues in ADAPT 1974, but is included here in its entirety for easier reading.] Photo: Wade Blank, in sneakers, jeans and an ADAPT T-shirt over a long sleeved shirt, walks with other ADAPTers in a march down a city street. Beside him is George Roberts, behind George is Diane Coleman and behind her is Anita Cameron. Behind Wade's left side is Chris Hronis, and behind him Bill Henning carries a banner. Caption for picture reads: Wade Blank takes to the streets of San Francisco with ADAPT in October 1992 Title: Wade Blank, 1940 to 1993 Co founder of Adapt [sic] Pursued A Vision Of Justice For People With Disabilities By Laura Hershey When a college friend dared Wade Blank to march with Martin Luther King. Jr. in Selma, Alabama. Wade didn't know what to expect. However, the experience imbued him with a vision of civil rights which he would never forget. Later. working in the youth wing of a nursing home, he understood clearly that the same issues, freedom. equality, and justice, were at stake for people with severe disabilities. Throughout his life, Wade Blank strove to obtain independent living opportunities and equal access for people who had lone been denied these basic civil rights. Wade died at age 52 on Feb. l5. I993. in a swimming accident in Todos Santos, Mexico, where he was vacationing with his family. He was trying to save his 8 year old son. Lincoln. An undertow made the rescue impossible; both Wade and Lincoln drowned. Wade is survived by his wife, Mollie; his daughter. Caitlin, 6; and his adopted daughter, Heather, 22, who has a disability. All members of the Blank family were actively involved in the disability rights movements that Wade helped launch. On Feb. 2l. a memorial service drew 1,100 people to Denver's Radisson Hotel. the site of the first national protest by American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit, or ADAPT. the grass roots, direct action disability rights movement Wade co-founded. Wade and Lincoln were remembered as spirited, loving people committed to social change. A neighbor remembered Wade helping her fix a broken lock late one night; she recalled Lincoln leading other children in a rousing chant during a make-believe demonstration on his front porch. Wade's colleague Shel Trapp quipped. “lf Heaven is inaccessible. God is in big trouble." Wade believed in the leadership potential of even the most severely disabled activists. He pushed his followers to take charge of the movement, even when it would have been easier to dominate it himself. His ability to alternate between a directive role and a supportive role from manager to attendant. from mentor to messenger kept Wade close to his people. lt also had a tactical value: At a 1991 demonstration in Colorado. police were vainly searching for someone to hold responsible for several dozen unstoppable wheelchair wielding protesters. An officer asked Wade. “Are you in charge here?" "No." Wade answered. “I just help people go to the bathroom." Drawing on his background as a pastor of a diverse and active parish, Wade taught the value of community. He brought people together across disabilities, classes, races, ideologies and other differences. ln ADAPT. Wade created a true community. welcoming anyone committed to the movement's vision of justice. During national actions, people from across the country exchange experiences and expertise. offer each other encouragement and strength, meet friends and even start romances. Just getting to the sites of national protests requires enormous energy expenditures and a myriad of logistical details for people with disabilities, many of whom use wheelchairs. On long. grueling caravan drives across country. Wade met those needs with humor and gentleness. He drove tirelessly, navigated, did attendant care, pumped gas, made fast food runs, hauled suitcases and battery chargers, repaired wheelchairs, even brought coffee to everyone’s rooms in the mornings. When we grew exhausted and short-tempered. he buoyed us with affectionate teasing and terrible, recycled puns. He kept the troops moving, both on the road and during protests. with encouragement, bad jokes. and calm confidence. Protests will be tougher without Wade's bold creativity, irrepressible sense of humor, and reassuring presence. But the movement won’t die with Wade. He knew that. “King‘s organization’s mistake was that they hung it all around his neck,” he told an interviewer last November. “What happened to the movement? It lost its definition. King gave it its definition. If I would get knocked off tomorrow or die of a heart attack, it wouldn’t slow us down a bit. We know what we’re about, and the movement would go on with the same intensity.” In 1971, Rev. Wade Blank arrived in Denver after 10 years of preaching and organizing in the Midwest. He had graduate degrees in divinity and was an ordained Presbyterian minister. But his radical activities had gotten him in trouble with the church authorities and he had been fired from his parish. His experiences had included hosting meetings of the Kent State chapter of Students for a Democratic Society (SDS); helping Vietnam War draftees flee to Canada; and organizing African American youths to demand community water and sewage systems in conservative Twinsburg Heights, OH. Wade was burned out and not sure what he wanted to do next. He ended up at Denver’s Heritage House nursing home, where he tried to make institutional life bearable for young disabled people. He quickly realized that such confinement could never be acceptable. He was fired from his job, but stayed in touch with several of the young residents. Eventually he helped 11 of them move into their own apartments. At first, Wade himself provided all his clients’ attendant care, until finally the State of Colorado agreed to fund home health care services for people living independently. This was the beginning of the Atlantis Community (named for a forgotten continent), today a thriving independent living center in Denver. Even in their newly won freedom, the Atlantis founders discovered barriers to independence all around them. Public buses were inaccessible, so the community members became activists. One July 5, 1978, with Wade’s support and guidance, 19 disabled people blocked buses overnight in the busy intersection at Colfax and Broadway to demonstrate their demand for lifts on buses. Protests continued until, in June 1983, Denver committed itself to a fully accessible bus system. Last summer, the city laid a plaque at the Colfax-Broadway intersection, engraved with the 19 activists’ names. Characteristically downplaying his own key role in the demonstration, Wade asked that his name not appear on the plaque. Wade once described his role this way: “That’s what my job is, to assist my people in gaining the power to make change." Throughout his years of service to “my people,” Wade worked to build strength and leadership among disability activists. Emboldened by success, the Denver activists carried their demands for bus access to the entire nation. Wade‘s vigorous encouragement and organizing skills had helped to transform a group of powerless nursing home "patients" into a band of effective revolutionaries. Now that same savvy spirit found a warm reception among disabled people who were tired of segregation and exclusion. A new movement was born, with the fitting acronym ADAPT, or American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation. The first national ADAPT protest took place at the Radisson in October, 1983. The nation's transit officials were meeting at the hotel when disabled protesters blocked every entrance. Similar demonstrations throughout the country, involving the blocking of hotels, office buildings, and buses, focused public attention on the fact that access to transportation was a basic civil right denied to people with disabilities. Subsequent protests refined ADAPT ’s brand of protest. With his 1960s civil rights experience, Wade taught his followers how to stage protests that were non violent but direct and confrontational. In the hands of people with severe disabilities, these tactics were astonishingly effective. ADAPT activists baffled police officers, and filled jail cells, in dozens of cities. The public, and ultimately the powers that be, had to respond. The idea of people with severe disabilities, and their allies (including Wade), risking arrest again and again some as many as 20 or 30 times proved not only impressive, but persuasive. After nearly a decade of such protests, ADAPT achieved its goals for the nation’s transit systems. The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) included mandates for bus and rail services. All new bus purchases must now be lift equipped, just as Wade and his cohorts had demanded. But before it passed, the ADA became stalled in the U.S. Senate and was in danger of being defeated or weakened by amendments. Wade organized a “Wheels of Justice” campaign that included three days of marching, demonstrating, and civil disobedience. Some 150 people were arrested in the Capitol rotunda. Within a few weeks, the ADA passed the full Senate, and was signed into law by President Bush on July 26, 1990. But Wade and ADAPT spent little time celebrating. They knew there was still much to be done. With over a million people still languishing in nursing homes, ADAPT immediately launched its new campaign, demanding the shifting of federal Medicare/Medicaid funds from nursing homes to in home attendant services that would allow people disabled by birth, accident, illness, or age to live independently. The meaning of the acronym, ADAPT, did just that it adapted. The letters now stand for American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today. The old battle cry, “We Will Ride!,“ was replaced with a new one: “Free Our People NOW!” In a recent interview, Wade said, “My whole commitment in life is to eradicate those nursing homes, to destroy them, bring them down. We will.” He didn’t live to see that goal realized, but he shared that vision with hundreds of others. In the process he helped create a movement that will continue the fight to “Free Our People.” Laura Hershey, freelance writer and poet, is an ADAPT activist. Inserted in box: A memorial will be held May 9, I993 at the Lincoln Memorial as part of an ADAPT action in Washington DC. Contributions may be sent to The Family of Wade Blank Memorial Fund at The First National Bank of Denver, 300 S. Federal Blvd., Denver, CO 80206. A trust fund has also been established in the name of Wade Blank. Contributions can be sent to Atlantis/ADAPT c/o Evan Kemp, 2500 Q St. N.W I21, Washington, DC 20007.
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
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Title: ADAPT activists and nursing home operators Face to Face: Photo by Tom Olin: A woman in a power chair [Laura Hershey] has a huge sign taped to her front "Give America A Choice in Long Term Care." She has a tube going up to her mouth and she is staring at some people in suits who are looking at the ground in front of themselves. Behind her more people are walking around. Story is on ADAPT 671, 678 and 670 and text is entirely in 671 for easier reading.
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Tim Cook, ADAPT's attorney, stands, hands on hips, in the middle of a very large group of ADAPT protesters. He is wearing a red tie and has his jacket slung on one arm with his briefcase.
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San Antonio Express News Tuesday, April 23, 1985 Metro, 9-A PHOTO by Jose Barrera: An angry looking Mike Auberger sits in his power chair holding a picket sign that reads "American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit" and the first letter of each word is dark so when you read down instead of across it reads ADAPT. Mike has on his no steps logo ADAPT shirt, and the large sign is taped to his wrist. Caption reads: MIKE AUBERGER OF THE DENVER CHAPTER OF ADAPT HOLDS SIGN WHILE BLOCKING DOOR . . . about 60 members of the group protested at VIA headquarters and held employees hostage. [Headline] Protesters hold workers hostage by Arthur Moczygemba, Express News Staff Writer Members of a group wanting improved access for the handicapped invaded the VIA office at 800 W Myrtle on Monday and used their wheelchairs to block all access to the building for about 90 minutes. Some 34 VIA employees held hostage inside their offices were released after police negotiated for a meeting with local and national transportation officials. The later session led to an airing of demands by about 60 members of the American Disabled tor Accessible Public Transportation. Police rented vans, in case the protesters were arrested. Bernie Ford of Chicago, president of the American Public Transit Association, and Wayne Cook, general manager of VIA, met with the ADAPT members Monday afternoon, but both sides stuck to their respective positions on public bus access for the handicapped. Ford was in San Antonio to attend the western conference of APTA, meeting at the Hyatt Regency Hotel through Wednesday. About 15 police officers were on duty there, Toscano reported. Ford refused to grant the ADAPT members 20 minutes of speaking time before the general transit membership, saying that a scheduled Wednesday work session on handicapped access was sufficient for consideration of the problem. Laura Hershey of Denver and Jean Stewart of Poughkeepsie, N.Y. listed the ADAPT demands, which included a policy change by the mass transit system that all new buses purchased be equipped with lifts that allow wheelchair-bound persons to use buses. ADAPT claims that it costs $8,000 to $10,000 to equip a new bus with lifts for the handicapped, while air conditioning a bus costs more “and doesn't always work." “It's a question of priorities," said Mike Auberger of Denver, where ADAPT is headquartered. After a 30-minute session, the only agreement between the ADAPT members and Ford was allow the group to publish an article in the September issue of the association's monthly newspaper. Cook was grilled about the San Antonio situation by Bob Kafka of Austin, a Texas ADAPT official. Cook said the VIA Para-Transit system used in San Antonio, which uses specially equipped vans to transport the handicapped was implemented upon recommendation by a 26-member task force, which included handicapped persons. “This is why you don‘t see San Antonians join your cause,” Cook said. Kafka retorted that numerous San Antonio handicapped members have contacted ADAPT, and refuted Cook's contention that the majority of the local handicapped persons support the VIA Para-Transit program because it is segregationist. “This is not to say you're lying,” Kafka told Cook, “but you are distorting the truth." The ADAPT members then read a statement submitted by Willis Williams on behalf of the San Antonio Citizens Concerned about Handicapism. The SACCH statement said the group declined to participate in the ADAPT demonstration but added: “It is our long-standing position to support the concept of a multimodal system with both lift-equipped mainline buses and door-to door service vans as the best and most economically sound approach for San Antonio." The statement was issued on behalf of Larry Johnson, chairman of San Antonio Independent Living Services, and Joyce Jenks, president of SACCH. "Twenty (VlA) vans cannot possibly serve 50,000 mobility impaired citizens," according to Jenks. The 60-member ADAPT group was composed mainly of Texans, with - others from Colorado, Illinois, and New York. Three people attending the protest identified themselves as San Antonians who came as individuals because their organizations are tax-exempt and do not participate in demonstrations. Tommy Leifester, 1100 Callaghan, said the VIA task force did not represent the majority of San Antonio handicapped. Leifester assisted Toscano in the negotiated settlement. Leifester stated that although local handicapped persons were not very visible at the protest, "This will help get our story out in public. VIA has been putting out only one side of the story." During the shuttle diplomacy segment the protesters chanted: “We will ride! Access now!" and demands for Cook to meet with them. Cook was not in his office since he was attending the mass transit convention at the hotel. He arrived at 12:10pm. Although the VIA employees were released about 12:30 p.m. and given the rest of the afternoon off, ADAPT members stayed until Ford showed for the meeting about 2:30 pm.
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PHOTO by Tom Olin: Tim Cook stands amid a mass of ADAPT folks in wheelchairs, standing with signs and without. People are milling around an in the distant background are police cars and other vehicles and a grassy hill with trees and shrubs. No one is especially looking at Tim. He is wearing a white dress shirt, tan pants and a bright red necktie. His hands are on his hips and in his left hand he is holding his jacket and briefcase. In the crowd behind Tim you can see Gwen Jackson, Julie Nolan, Laura Hershey, Frank McColm and many others, and a TV reporter and camera are interviewing someone. Tim is the attorney who represented ADAPT in our case against DOT (ADAPT v. Burnley). This picture was apparently taken in Baltimore, but since Tim was so integral to the case it is included here. Everyone, all the hot shot disability lawyers, said Tim could not win this case -- but he did. [Tim is one of my heroes. -- Stephanie Thomas]
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Rocky Mountain News - Fri., July 27, 1990 Mayor vows action on accessibility law Pena says city will help businesses comply By Ann Carnahan, Rocky Mountain News Staff Writer Denver Mayor Federico Pena promised yesterday to help business owners comply with new legislation requiring them to make offices and stores accessible to the disabled. Facing a roomful of people in wheelchairs, the mayor said he would review the city's permitting system to eliminate “unnecessary obstacles” that owners could face in making modifications. “We don't want to be a stumbling block,” Pena said. “We are evaluating the full range of options available . . . everything from making adjustments to fees to making adjustments to other criteria we have.” A recent University of West Virginia study showed that the average job accommodation cost is less than $500, officials said at the press conference. President Bush yesterday signed into law a measure barring discrimination against 43 million Americans who are disabled or have AIDS. Within two, years, businesses must be made accessible to disabled workers and customers. Public accommodations must comply within 18 months. “There are going to be some in the private sector who will argue that this costs too much, that this is an unfair burden," Pena said. “I say we are losing money because we have . . . Americans who cannot participate fully in the economic life-stream of this country because our buildings are not accessible." Denver has a reputation among the handicapped of being one of the most accessible cities in the country, said Laura Hershey, director of the Denver Commission for People with Disabilities. Prior to yesterday, modification requirements applied only to federal programs, Hershey said. But in Denver, all public buildings constructed since 1983 must be accessible to the handicapped. High spirits marked the press conference yesterday in Pena’s office as the mayor congratulated the disabled who have lobbied many years for this legislation. “This is freedom. It's acceptibility,” said Sueann Hughes, who has multiple sclerosis. “For the first time in a long time, we don't have to worry about being discriminated against." Pena also outlined several other steps the city is taking to help the disabled: * Co-sponsoring - a conference on April 30, 1991, that will address the new law's impact on Colorado. * Examining the city's employment system to determine whether there are ways to recruit and hire more people with disabilities. * Stepping up the city's curb ramp construction program with increased funds under the bond issue projects.