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ADAPT (697)
The Orlando Sentinel, Saturday, September 7, 1991 Title: Disabled plan to demonstrate at convention The Orange Sheriffs Office is preparing for a showdown when nursing home operators and activists in wheelchairs show up next month. By Christopher Quinn of the Sentinel Staff The stage has been set for a wild showdown next month in Orlando among nursing home operators, deputy sheriffs and hundreds of wheelchair-bound protesters, some on respirators. The activists, whose tactics include chaining themselves to buildings to halt conventions, want fewer people kept in nursing homes and more money devoted to caring for the disabled at home. They are members of Denver-based American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today, or ADAPT. They plan to demonstrate at next month’s convention of the American Health Care Association at the Orange County‘ Convention and Civic Center. The association represents nursing home operators. If ADAPT members break the law during their protests — as they have in cities across the country — the Orange County Sheriff's Office plans to arrest them, possibly filling the county jail with people who require medical help. “Their aim is to be arrested," said Sgt. Jon Swanson, head of the Sheriffs Office intelligence unit. “Their whole tactic is confrontation.” ‘lt’s going to cost a lot of taxpayer money’ The Sheriff's Office will have to pay overtime to keep crowd and riot control squads on hand 24 hours a day during the four-day convention that begins Oct 6. “It's going to cost a lot of money, a lot of taxpayer money,“ Swanson said. An ADAPT newsletter about the planned protest says "Mickey Mouse and AHCA will never be the same after ADAPT travels to the tourist capital of the US." The newsletter boasts of how the group disrupted a speech by Health and Human Services Secretary Louis Sullivan earlier this year. Barbara Guthrie, an ADAPT organizer, said in an interview Friday that members are non-violent people willing to go to jail for their beliefs. “We'll push for arrest" she said. "There's thousands of people in nursing homes that don't need to be there.” Guthrie said ADAPT’s goal is for Medicaid to redirect 25 percent of its $23 billion nursing home budget to home care for the disabled. Guthrie-said she is confined to a wheelchair but is able to live at home because she gets a little help day getting dressed. Linda Keegan, a vice president for the nursing home association, said ADAPT does not seem interested in compromise. “What they're looking for is attention," Keegan said, adding that her group has met with ADAPT leaders twice this year to map out an agreement but that ADAPT continued to protest at meetings. “I really don’t believe what they’re looking for is to work anything out!" Keegan said the association's immediate concern is safety at the convention. She said she would not be surprised if ADAPT tried to block all the entrances at the mammoth building. They're pretty good," she said. Most of the 3,500 people attending the convention will stay at the Peabody Hotel across from the convention center on south International Drive. Swanson said ADAPT has reserved 80 rooms at the Clarion Plaza Hotel at the Convention Center just up the street. The group expects more than 300 members. In cities across the country ADAPT has blocked meetings, disrupted meetings and shut down offices as it sought to reach its goals. Last May in Washington, activists— more than 100 in wheelchairs — blocked entrances to the headquarters of the Health and Human Services Department to protest nursing homes. Some ADAPT members discarded their wheelchairs and crutches and tried to get past a police line securing the building. Some crawled under parked police cars and tried to squeeze past the legs of police officers in front of the entrances. Sheriff's crowd control officers will be trained in the next few weeks on how to arrest protesting quadriplegics and other disabled people without hurting them, Swanson said. Deputies might even find themselves under attack. Swanson said that in other cities, ADAPT members have formed wheelchair lines and rushed police barricades. Unless the ADAPT members were charged with felonies, which is unlikely, they would be processed through the county jail and released within a few hours. The jail, the state's most crowded, is under court order to release people accused of most non-violent crimes. Ed Hoyle, an assistant jail director, said if the protesters were arrested a second time, they probably would be held for a court appearance. The jail will have emergency medical workers on hand. For the protesters, the Orlando visit will not be all business. The ADAPT flier says, "There will be time at the end of the actions to play at Disney World and Epcot Center."
ADAPT (693)
An ADAPT woman (Julie Nolan)0 crawls under a truck being used as part of a barrier to keep ADAPT out. Behind the truck is a security guard holding up a table to keep folks out, but he is looking back over his shoulder as Julie slips through.
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