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Sākums / Albūmi / Tagi Wade Blank
+ Atlantis Community 37
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The Denver Post - Thursday October 2, 1975 [Headline] Muscular Dystrophy Wins Battle [Subheading] Mike Died at Atlantis - a Dream Come True by Fred Gillies Michael Smith died Wednesday afternoon in the place where he wanted to be - the Atlantis Community in Denver. Atlantis was Mike's dream come true: a fledgling community where he and 13 other handicapped persons could live in dignity as individuals, attempting to realize their full potential. But the dream died Wednesday for Mike as muscular dystrophy, the dark angel that lived with him for most of his slightly more than 21 years, won the final battle. Mike and other Atlantis residents came into the public view late in June when a Denver Post story told of the hardships they were suffering as the result of bureaucratic bungling which had delayed the Social Security checks the Atlantis residents needed to pay their living expenses there. At that time, Mike was semiconscious and not expected to live. But he later rallied, as he had three other times in the past year when he was close to death. For the past three months, Mike generally had been confined to his bed and most of the time used an oxygen tank to ease his breathing. In recent weeks, Mike had started composing poetry again — one of his favorite pastimes and the one that seemed to allow, him to escape from the physical helplessness forced upon him by muscular dystrophy. Mike also was following closely the progress of a legal action that he and other handicapped persons had filed in Denver federal court to ensure the handicapped the same rights as all other persons. And with the help of Atlantis staff members, Mike was planning his first vacation in many years: a plane trip to Houston, Texas. Two of the Atlantis staff were to accompany him there. But last Sunday night, Mike's condition suddenly worsened. His kidneys apparently had started to shut down. Carbon dioxide was building up in his body, affecting the brain and causing respiratory problems. Mike was taken Monday to Denver General Hospital, where blood tests were completed. But Atlantis officials said doctors at the hospital concluded that there wasn't much that could be done. And Mike was adamant: he didn't want to undergo another operation to cut into his windpipe to ease his breathing just a little longer. He didn’t want to be hooked up to all kinds of machines and medical equipment. He wanted to be left alone and to he allowed to die in peace and at Atlantis. Mike was permitted to "come home" to Atlantis on Tuesday. But now he was required to wear a full face mask utilizing a nebulizer which sprayed a mixture of oxygen and water steadily into his weakening lungs. On Wednesday morning, Mike twice had been taken off the nebulizer briefly while adjustments were made, and there were no complications, Wade Blank, Atlantis co-director said. But Wednesday afternoon, after the nebulizer had been removed for another swift adjustment, Mike died. “He relaxed, went to sleep and just stopped breathing," said his mother, Mrs. Joanne Davis of Central City, Colo., who was with him. Mike’s mother will fulfill his wish that the only flowers at his funeral be one red rose which she will provide and keep afterward. Mike also had asked that persons planning to send flowers for his funeral might instead send donations to Atlantis at 2965 W. 11th Ave. Early last July, Mike and a friend put together a book of about 35 of Mike's poems, written over the past seven years. At the time of Mike's death, the manuscript still was being circulated among publishers. One of these poems - “With the Wind, I Leave" - tells of Mike’s leaving his love, “leaving the oceans, fields and mountains that were my life.” But then he tells of finding "a peace and wisdom that no one can take away.” And the poem concludes with Mike's quiet admonition: "So when you remember me, think of the oceans, fields and mountains. Think of the wind that blows in the spring and you will know that I am free." Services for Mike will be at 2 p.m. Saturday at the Olinger Mortuary, 16th and Boulder Sts. A copy of Mike's book of poems will be with him when he is cremated, as he had wished. Denver Post PHOTO: A thin young man (Mike Smith) lies in bed wrapped in sheets. His long dark hair is laid out on the pillow above his head, and his dark eyebrows, beard and moustache frame his features. He looks with a burning intensity up and someone (mostly out of the picture), who is holding a book. Caption reads: Mike Smith Listens as His Poetry is Read. He was photographed in June after moving to Atlantis.
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Rocky Mountain News Sunday March 27, 1977 Disabled are limited by society's attitudes By Alan Cunningham PHOTO by John Gordon, News: A young man (Larry Ruiz) sits in a wheelchair in front of a building. The shot shows his whole body and wheelchair and is looking up at Larry's smiling face. (For those who knew Larry, it's a classic Larry smile.) Caption reads: Larry Ruiz is one of those leading better lives of the Atlantis community. Nobody seems to know exactly how many disabled Americans there are - or even how one should define them. In Colorado, the figures are even more sketchy than they are nationally. But one estimate, based on federal statistics, suggests there may be as many as 350,000 disabled citizens in this state. If true, that would mean that 14 percent of the population suffers from some disability. The same projection indicates that as many as 83,000 of these persons as unable to work, keep house or go to school. Gov. Dick Lamm sometimes uses a more conservative figure of 10 percent. But even if that is closer to the truth, it shows that the plight of the disabled is a major problem. It also offers a clue as to why the disabled seem sure to emerge soon as the country's newest civil rights lobby. The have the numbers to make themselves heard - and seen - if they can begin to speak out with a unified voice, demanding their fair share of the American Pie. Until now, they've suffered the fate of most minority groups: invisibility. This is ironic, since most are highly visible if anyone chooses to see them. But for many reasons - not the least a sense of guilt - the able-bodied tend to turn away from those with crutches, wheelchairs and seeing eye dogs. And those who plan public facilities and services often reflect this attitude. It is politically safe for them to ignore the needs of the disabled pretending such persons make up a tiny fraction of the population and thus don't deserve a major share of attention. A myth to be sure. But it is only one of several myths which the Atlantis community, a group home for handicapped persons, in a minority report to the upcoming White House Conference on Handicapped individuals, hopes to destroy. For instance, there is the idea that nursing homes are primarily heavens for the aged and the infirm. The opposite side of that assumption is set forth in the opening chapter of the Atlantis report. Few realize that our nation's institutions also house a great many disabled young persons, some in their early teens. THESE ARE THE victims of our society's response to children and young adults who have muscular dystrophy, cerebral palsy, birth defects, blindness, and neurological disorders, or have survived accidents of varying kinds. But they are there by the thousands, many simply because they were labeled by physicians and psychologists as "retarded" and unable to function normally. It is difficult to imagine a more stifling or inappropriate atmosphere for a young person. It is inhumane to shackle and imprison youthful energy and curiosity into the nursing home routine. Such repressive living leads to anger, hostility and finally to the withdrawal and waste of a battered ego. As the report goes on to explain, the Atlantis group has fought to get more than 30 young men and women out of nursing homes and institutions so as to demonstrate that they can reverse this pattern if given a chance. But, even as it begins to reverse, new problems emerge. Most have to do with obstacles which the world has placed in the way of the disabled person. Again, it has a lot do with society's tendency to act as if he doesn't exist. Funds for rehabilitation programs, both public and private, are so scarce that only a small fraction of the disabled ever benefit from them. A prime example of this comes from State Rehabilitation Director Glenn Crawford, who says his division has determined that 135,000 persons in Colorado are potentially eligible for its services. Yet, in 1976, the division served about 14,300 persons. The figure will inch its way up to 16,000 this year. Such private facilities as the widely acclaimed Craig Hospital also have finite resources. They apply guidelines to decide which applicants will be accepted and which won't. Needless to say, a lawyer whose only disability is the loss of his legs has a better chance than a 19-year-old with no schooling who has lain on his back for most of his life. Funds and facilities for handicapped scarce Those who don't get the help often wind up in the category that Wade Blank of Atlantis refers to as "the losers." He contends that those who work with the disabled have too quickly given up on this group of people consigning them to lives of hopelessness. And he further argues that the implications of this have narrowed opportunities not only for the severely disabled, but for many others with less serious problems. For even those who have escaped the awful label of the "loser" run into obstacles every day. The Atlantis report focuses on many of these obstacles. These are some of the observations: EDUCATION. Many disabled youngsters in the past have failed to get adequate schooling either because they were in institutions or because their families assumed they would never be able to lead normal lives as adults and consequently didn't need to be trained for careers. Even those who went to school often were sidelined into special programs for the handicapped. While academic standards were high in such programs, the students were poorly prepared either intellectually or emotionally, to get along in a world of able-bodied persons. The recommended solution, "mainstreaming"- that is, letting disabled youngsters and adults go to school in the same classroom with everyone else. MONEY. The complexities of the various welfare programs on the county, state and federal level often conspire to keep disabled persons in nursing homes. Counties often find they have to pay more money if a man or woman is living in his own apartments, or in a facility, such as Atlantis, than they do if he or she is in a nursing home. That's because the federal government pays the bulk of the nursing home fee. Likewise, assistance payments are cut off if a disabled person earns more than a pittance in a month's time. The cutoff can be as low as $65. The "maximum level of income"from federal state and county assistance payments is $185. This means many disabled persons are living below the poverty level as it has been defined for other underprivileged groups. The solution as viewed by those who put together the Atlantis report, is to simplify and integrate the complicated payments system. But even more important, to increase payments so that everyone gets the same amount of money whether he is in an institution or out. TRANSPORTATION. The report talks about a number of things here including electric wheelchairs and curb cuts, but is main statement under this heading is that bus systems such as the Regional Transportation District (RTD) should become fully accessible to the disabled. RTD, it contends, has been unresponsive to the needs of disabled would be riders for transportation to work, school and for pleasure trips. Even the special HandiRide service - which RTD often boasts is a frontrunner in the nation - is given poor marks. LAWS. [not legible...] Colorado concerning the disabled in general and the severely physically disabled in particular, the report states. Furthermore, it is not realistic to think that the disabled will get effective legislation passed without having government officials sensitized to the disabled's problems. This may already be changing. Largely due to lobbying by Atlantis, hearings were underway in the General Assembly this week on two bills aimed at helping the disabled. One, a Senate bill now in committee, would allow more Coloradans to receive payments so they could hire home attendants. The other, a House bill, is a "civil rights bill for the handicapped." It would bar discrimination against the disabled. Backers of the latter bill point out that it's needed because the federal civil rights laws, while dealing with the rights of racial minorities and women, have never guaranteed these same rights to disabled citizens. Idealy, says the Atlantis report, Congress and the state legislatures need to weed out laws which are confusing and contradictory, often creating "disincentives"for the disabled to pursue more normal lives. A wholistic approach is needed. JOBS. Virtually every problem mentioned above, plus all the others catalogued in the report, tend to stand in the way of the disabled person who seriously wants to go to work in spite of the lip service paid to the slogan, "Hire the handicapped," many find the doors still closed. The reasons are many and the problems complex. Lack of schooling is a factor. Some disabled persons have languished in sheltered workshops, counting fish hooks and getting paid $10 a month for it, the report says. Others have an education but find that architectural barriers, or the lack of adequate bus service, keep them from getting to jobs they could perform. And attitudes often stand in the way when physical barriers are moved aside. "Perhaps the greatest barrier of all is in the minds of men," the report notes. It advocates more and better training programs, plus affirmative action plans to assure that larger numbers of disabled workers are hired by public and private employers. In an elaborate ceremony several weeks ago, the Atlantis report was presented to Mayor Bill McNichols. But privately some of those connected with the report conceded they didn't expect to see much action on the local level until public policies in Washington and throughout the nation begin to change significantly. That's why the Atlantis group is placing much emphasis on its efforts to make an impression on the Carter administration during its formative period. The time seems ripe for a coalition of disabled groups around the country to launch a concerted civil rights drive on behalf of their "invisible" constituents. And the first test may come April 5, when many groups have threatened to stage a sit-in at offices of the Department of Health Education and Welfare, including the regional office in Denver, if new HEW Secretary Joseph Califano hasn't issued new regulations to implement laws for the disabled. "The disabled have been ignored far too long in this society," declares the Atlantis report. "We are demanding that our rights be addressed. We are giving you, the policy makers, our findings and recommendations on how to solve the inequities in the system. "The next is yours." Such words, when voiced by other groups, have inevitably been followed by major social changes. It seems likely the same pattern will apply here. PHOTO by John Gordon, News: A man lies in a hospital bed, covered by sheets. Photo is very dark and hard to make out. Caption reads: Shooting victim [unreadable] from nursing home [unreadable] he said [unreadable] has been paralyzed since [unreadable].
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Denver Post [This article continues on in ADAPT 123, but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] Photo by Lyn Alweis: A short haired man in a jacket and dark slacks [Mel Conrardy] is lifted in his wheelchair from the sidewalk to a bus. The lift comes out of the front door of the bus and has railings on either side of the lift almost as tall as the seated man. Just by the bus door is a sign on the side of the bus that says "RTD Welcome Aboard." Caption: An RTD bus with wheelchair lift provides mobility for Mel Conrardy Title: Leaders of handicapped rate RTD service best in country By Norm Udevitz, Denver Post Staff Writer Disabled Denverites just a few years ago had as much chance of riding a bus as they did of climbing Mount Everest. “It was brutal the way RTD treated us,” said Mike Auberger, an official in the Atlantis Community, for the disabled and a leader in the fight that has turned the Regional Transportation District’s handicapped service around. In the 1970s and early 1980s, RTD busses then rarely equipped with wheelchair lifts, often left wheelchair-bound riders stranded on streets. Drivers, lacking training in dealing with visually or language impaired people, panicked when blind or deaf riders tried to board buses. “It used to be that even in the dead of winter, when it was below zero, those of us in wheelchairs would wait 2 or 3 hours for a bus to finally stop," Auberger recalls. “And often the lift was broken and we couldn't get on the bus anyway. And usually the drivers were rude and angry. They would tell us that we were ruining their schedules." But conditions have changed, Auberger says: “Right now, Denver has the most accessible public transit system for the handicapped — and all the public - in the country." Debbie Ellis, a state social services worker who heads the agency's Handicapped Advisory Council, agrees, saying: “It took a lot of pressure, but RTD has responded and now the bus system is doing a good job of serving the handicapped." Leaders of national programs for the disabled also agree. In fact, the President's Committee on Employment of the Handicapped will bring 5,000 delegates, many of them handicapped, to its national conference in Denver in April. This will be the first time in four decades the group has held its national session outside of Washington DC. “One of the key reasons we're meeting in Denver this year is because it just might be the most comfortable city in the country for the handicapped,” says Sharon Milcrut, head of the Colorado Coalition for Persons with Disabilities, which is hosting the conference. “A very important aspect of that comfort," she notes, “is how accessible the transit system is for the handicapped.” It didn't get that way easily. In the decade between 1974 and 1984, handicapped activists had to pressure indifferent RTD administrators and directors. Each gain was hard won. “We used every tactic in the book, from lawsuits to bus blockades on the street and sit-ins at the RTD offices," says Wade Blank, an Atlantis group director. “The lawsuits didn't help much but when we took to the streets in the late 1970s, I think that's when we started getting their attention." Blank and others also say the 1984 hiring of Ed Colby as RTD general manager helped. Before he arrived, less than half of the 750 RTD buses had wheelchair lifts, which often were in disrepair. Training for drivers to learn how to deal with handicapped riders was minimal. Agency directors resisted change. RTD relied heavily on a costly special van operation called Handyride - a door-to-door pickup service for handicapped. It has cost $13[? glare makes number hard to read] million to run since it began in 1975. “Over the past couple of years the turnaround has been phenomenal," Auberger says. “All of RTD's new buses are being ordered with lifts and older buses are being retrofitted." By 1986's end, almost 80 percent of the bus fleet — 608 of 765 buses — had wheelchair lifts; 82 percent of the fleet's 6,242 daily trips are now accessible for the disabled. Plans call for the fleet to be 100 percent lift-equipped by 1987's end. “The lifts aren't breaking down all the time now, either," Auberger said, noting that agency officials found drivers had neglected to report broken lifts: “That way the lifts stayed broken and drivers had an excuse for not picking us up. A bunch of people were fired over that and others realized that Colby wasn't kidding about improving handicapped service." Driver training also has improved dramatically. “It isn't perfect yet,” Ellis of the advisory council says. "But everyone is working hard at it. What we are finding is that 20 percent of the drivers understand that they are moving people, all kinds of people, and they're really great with the handicapped. “Another 20 percent figure their job is to move buses and to heck with passengers, all kinds of passengers. That bottom 20 percent probably won't ever change. So we're working real hard on the 60 percent in between," Ellis says. Drivers, for example, learn to help blind riders. “That’s an improvement that helps the disabled, but it also helps regular passengers who are newcomers to the city,” Ellis says. All the improvements haven't come cheap. Since 1974, more than $5million has been spent on lifts and lift maintenance, most of the expense was incurred in the last three years. RTD plans to spend $9 million more in the next six years to keep the fleet up to its current standards and pay for more driver training. Another $4 million will be spent on HandyRide service. Ironically, Auberger and Ellis both say one of the biggest problems remaining is getting more handicapped people to use mass transit. “There are no reliable figures," Ellis says. “But we think there are about 20,000 handicapped people in the metro area and only about 200 or 300 are using buses on a regular basis." Auberger, confined to a wheelchair after breaking his neck in an accident ll years ago, complains: “The medical system builds a bubble around handicapped people and makes them think they have to be protected. "That's just not true in most cases. So one of the things we're doing now is educating the handicapped to overcome their fears. We've finally got a bus system that works for us and we want the disabled to use it." Photo by Lyn Alweis: A rather straight looking man [Mel Conrardy] in a white jacket, big mittens, and a motorized wheelchair, wears a slight smile as he rides the bus. Someone in a dark jacket stands beside him, and behind him, further back on the bus, other riders are sitting on the bus seats. Caption reads: A bus seat folds up to anchor Mel Conrardy's wheelchair to the floor. Conrardy commutes to work at the Atlantis Community.
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Rocky Mountain News 7/6/78 [This story continues in ADAPT 91 but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] NEWS Photo by Dick Davis: A city bus is parked at an angle to the street across 2 or 3 lanes. In front, a small woman in a power chair and dark sunglasses, sits holding a very large sign that reads "Taxation without Transportation" and has a wheelchair symbol of access. Two other people in wheelchairs are backed up to the side of the bus and a small group of other people in wheelchairs are in the street by the blockers. Mel Conrardy is in the wheelchair closest to the camera. Caption reads: A group of handicapped persons "seized" two RTD buses Wednesday, protesting what they called the firm's insensitivity to handicapped. [Headline] Buses seized, police decline to make arrests [Subheading] DISABLED SNARL TRAFFIC IN PROTEST By GARY DELSOHN News Staff Protesting what they said was the Regional Transportation District's insensitivity to Denver's handicapped, about 25 disabled persons "seized" two buses during Wednesday morning's downtown rush hour, snarling traffic and daring police to make arrests. While supporters helped them board two eastbound buses on Colfax Avenue at Broadway, several persons in wheelchairs surrounded the crowded vehicles. Early morning commuters had to walk two blocks to catch other buses while RTD drivers radioed their headquarters for assistance. Shortly after the 8:30 takeover, police arrived, admitting they weren't sure what to do. As commanders came to assist, police decided not to arrest any handicapped protesters because, as one sergeant said, “We don't want to be the fall guys on this.“ Police said they didn't want to risk injuring any of the severely disabled persons by loading them into police vans, nor did they wish to be pictured in television newscasts or newspapers arresting persons in wheelchairs. TWO PERSONS WERE arrested for refusing to obey police orders, but they were local counselors - not in wheelchairs - who work with many of Denver's approximately 8,000 handicapped. John Simpson, RTD executive director, arrived at the scene about 10 a.m. and talked with the demonstrators, asking them to leave the street and explain their grievances away from traffic. The protesters refused to move, saying Simpson and RTD have been meeting with the handicapped for years and done little to solve their transportation problems. "Handicapped people have a right to ride the bus just like everyone else," said Lin Chism, a disabled University of Colorado at Denver student studying rehabilitation counseling. “Today is the first of many times we will have to do this to get RTD to come to some agreement with us.“ Calling themselves the Colorado Coalition of Disabled Citizens, the protesters, organized and led by Denver's privately owned Atlantis Community for the handicapped, said the demonstration was a response to last week's federal court ruling that RTD was not violating the constitutional rights of the city's handicapped by not providing them access to RTD buses. ATLANTIS AND OTHER groups representing the handicapped and elderly last year sued RTD to require installation on all new buses of devices providing access to persons in wheelchairs. Wade Blank, director of Atlantis, which helps handicapped persons adjust to non-institutional life, said demonstrators hoped to get the attention of U.S. District Court Judge Richard P. Matsch, who made last week's ruling, and "others in the judicial system so they know what we‘re up against. “Like Martin Luther King. we have tried to go through the system," Blank said. "Now, like Dr. King, we must practice civil disobedience until the judges change their minds or Congress makes new laws." A clerk for Judge Matsch said, “The judge does not respond to reporters‘ questions and makes no comment on a ruling he has made." Blank said Atlantis lawyers will appeal Matsch's decision. He said the group also plans additional disruptive protests. “These people have no place else to go," he said, adding that they would not even be able to attend meetings on the subject proposed by Simpson because they could not find transportation. Simpson, talking with protesters, police and reporters throughout the morning, said RTD is trying to help disabled persons get around town and is one of the most progressive agencies in the nation in that area. RTD HAS I2 BUSES equipped with hydraulic lifts and locking safety clamps for persons in wheelchairs. Simpson said. Transporting several hundred persons to and from work and school daily, the "special service", buses appear to be the best way to move handicapped persons, he said. Equipping other buses with elevator lifts wouldn't be feasible, according to Simpson, because many handicapped persons can't get to bus stops located throughout town. Simpson pleaded with the demonstrators to move and let the two stalled buses continue down Colfax Avenue, even ordering one of the special buses into the area to handle the crowd. He also took reporters through the bus, demonstrating its features. But the protesters refused to move, saying their problem wasn't one of immediate transportation but rather a long-term dilemma exacerbated by the fact that only nine of the 12 special buses are in use. The other three, they said, are in storage at RTD garages. Simpson said RTD will have another 28 buses designed to carry handicapped persons in operation by September but their use has been delayed by mechanical problems. POLICE COMMANDERS repeatedly tried to mediate an immediate solution to the the traffic jam created by the protesters, but demonstrators said they would not leave unless Simpson gave them a written promise that all RTD buses would be made accessible to the handicapped. Simpson, declining this offer, said he would meet "with anyone, any time" on the issue. "We have been sensitive," Simpson said. "But some of these problems Congress will have to address." Demonstrators also expressed concern that the waiting list to get on the special buses is 1,000 persons long and the only alternative for persons without friends or relatives to drive them around is a private cab service that charges about $16 per round trip. Many city and state officials were on the scene, watching and talking to police and demonstrators. Mary Krane, a supervisor in the city's social services department, said she quit RTD advisory committee on the handicapped and elderly last year in frustration. "I resigned because it was so hard to get anything done, " she said. "We messed around with a few things but nothing really happened. No one has been willing to make the capital investment necessary to make buses accessible to the handicapped." JEROME SPRIGS, A member of the Governor's Council on the Handicapped, said disabled persons "know they're getting the run-around from the RTD because many of these special buses are being used in rural areas." Lisa Wheeler, 20, an Atlantis counselor, and Bill Roem, who runs a Lakewood home for the physically handicapped, were arrested about 11 am after they ignored a police order to leave the street. "Police are doing their jobs, " Roem said from inside a squad car. "But there has to be some awareness of the problem." Ms. Wheeler and Roem were book at police headquarters and released on $100 bond. Police blocked traffic on Colfax Avenue from Delaware on the west to Lincoln on the east. Traffic during the evening rush hour didn't seem to move any slower than usual, as protesters said they probably would continue their vigil throughout the night.
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Rocky Mountain News PHOTO, News Photo by Jose R. Lopez: A thin woman [Theresa Preda] with dark hair and a big smile stands facing a man [LA Kimball] sitting at a "classroom style" conference table. He has a sickly smile on his face as he looks up at her. Between the tables and beside the woman is a manual wheelchair and she is pointing to it. It appears a man in another wheelchair [Mark Johnson] is pushing the wheelchair toward Teresa. At the table next to Kimball another man, also a presenter, who does not appear to have a disability, stares at Kimball with a slightly startled look on his face. Caption reads: Theresa Preda presents a wheelchair to RTD Executive Director LA. Kimball, right. Disabled riders' flap marks parley By JERRY BROWN News Staff Acting under a court order, Regional Transportation District officials and members of Denver's handicapped community met Wednesday to discuss their differences, but a longstanding argument among the handicapped over the type of bus service they want dominated the session. The 90-minute meeting at the Cosmopolitan Hotel opened with two organizations that have fought for accessible service on RTD’s regular routes presenting a wheelchair to RTD Executive Director L.A, Kimball and urging him to use it to learn firsthand the difficulties handicapped people experience in riding buses. Kimball pledged to use the wheelchair presented by Atlantis and Holistic Approaches to Independent Living, but told reporters: “l probably won't tell you in advance when I'm going to do it." The meeting was the result of a negotiated court order between RTD and the two organizations stemming from a series of demonstrations the organizations staged at RTD buildings in January. Atlantis and HAIL were protesting the transit agency's decision not to put wheelchair lifts on 89 buses scheduled for delivery next year. They have filed a lawsuit in Denver District Court in an attempt to force RTD to put lifts on the buses. But more than half of the l00 or so handicapped people attending the meeting indicated they believed RTD should focus its efforts on the door-to-door service that RTD has provided the handicapped for more than five years — not the accessible service on regular routes advocated by Atlantis and HAIL. Kimball drew cheers when he announced that the door-to-door service, known as Handi-Ride, would not be discontinued this summer as planned. " Kimball said the door-to-door service would continue until sometime next year, and suggested that the handicapped groups present join in a regional effort to devise a system under which someone else would provide the door-to-door service when RTD ends it. RTD began providing wheelchair-accessible service on some regular routes last summer and has promised to have half of its peak-hour service and virtually all of its off peak service wheelchair accessible by July 1. Saying RTD cannot afford to provide both types of accessible service, RTD officials had said they would discontinue the HandiRide service after July 1. The threatened loss of HandiRide service has created a split within the handicapped community, which dominated Wednesday's meeting. Spokesmen for Atlantis and HAIL said they believe both types of service are necessary, and promised to fight any efforts by RTD to discontinue the HandiRide. They accused RTD of using the HandiRide to create dissension among their ranks and “stacking” the audience by sending invitations to HandiRide patrons. But Atlantis spokesman Wade Blank said: "In a way RTD did us a favor." Blank said the meeting would help open communications between the two handicapped factions.
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The Denver Post Denver Post PHOTO: A thin young man (Mike Smith) lies in bed wrapped in sheets. His long dark hair is laid out on the pillow above his head, and his dark eyebrows, beard and moustache frame his features. He looks with a burning intensity up and someone (mostly out of the picture), who is holding a book. caption reads: MIKE SMITH WATCHES AS AN ATTENDANT READS SOME OF HIS POEMS. He is confined to bed at Atlantis Community, which was plagued by foulups. [Headline] MIKE SMITH'S' DREAM [Subheading] Atlantis Battles Delay, Foulups By FRED GILLIES Denver Post Staff Writer "Realize...Realize..." The words came in a strange, guttural tone from the young man lying semiconscious on the bed, breathing life-giving oxygen through tubes running from a tank nearby. Mike Smith, 21, had been severely drained by the ravages of muscular dystrophy, his grim companion since birth. Yet, early last week as Mike lay unconscious for the third day, he seemed to radiate a private kind of peace and serenity in this small bedroom overlooking a busy Denver highway. Realize. . . For Mike Smith, realization of the promise and the hope of freedom for himself and seven other handicapped persons came when they became the first residents of the Atlantis Community, opened June 1 at the Las Casitas Housing Development in southwest Denver. At Las Casitas, in a pioneering experiment in personal fulfillment, they reside in their own apartments, set their own rules, and, as far as the handicapped can, manage their own lives. Gently, an attendant stroked Mike’s forehead, bent near him and whispered words which only he might have heard. His mother, Mrs. Joanne Davis, stood nearby and said Mike had “come home” to the place where he wanted to be, to the freedom he had sought so long for himself and other handicapped persons. But a threat to this hard-won freedom arose shortly after Atlantis was started. Mike and four other handicapped persons at Atlantis found they had become victims of the slow-moving, computerized bureaucracy of the federal Social Security Administration. And unnecessary hardships and worry had been created for the Atlantis residents by on incredible delay on the part of the U.S. postal system in Denver and the acknowledged poor judgment of a Lakewood nursing home. Mike and the four other Atlantis residents were depending heavily on their Social Security checks to pay for their food, rent, attendants’ services and other expenses at Atlantis. But these checks didn't arrive on time early in June. Atlantis officials obtained some emergency financial help, partly through Denver's food stamp office, but it wasn't enough. And one day early last week, an attendant at Atlantis was trying to plan a dinner meal which he hoped would cost about 40 cents for each Atlantis resident. But it shouldn't have come to this point of desperation. [Subheading] PLANNED CAREFULLY Mike, other Atlantis residents and staff members had planned carefully for this major change in their lives. In mid-May, they had contacted the Social Security Administration in Lakewood, detailing their plans and indicating they would be leaving their nursing home and beginning a new way of life. This change would make them eligible for higher Social Security payments to meet their increased expenses. Social Security officials in Lakewood accepted this information for input in the administration's national computer. And at that time, a Social Security official at the Lakewood office also advised the handicapped persons to file change-of-address cards with the Denver Post Office. If this were done, the official said, the handicapped persons' Social Security checks would be sent on time to Atlantis, rather than being held up at the nursing home which most of the eight handicapped persons would be leaving June 1. Wade Blank, Atlantis‘ co-director, took completed change-of-address cards for all future Atlantis residents to the South Denver postal station, three days before the changes were to take effect. And a South Denver postal employee said there should be "no problem" in forwarding the handicapped persons' Social Security checks to Atlantis early in June. [Subheading] SYSTEM FAILED But from that point, the system failed miserably. Four Social Security checks for Atlantis residents weren't forwarded to them at their Atlantis address early this month, but went instead to their old address at the Heritage House Nursing Care Center in Lakewood. A Heritage House clerk, although aware of the handicapped persons move to Atlantis, sent three of the checks back to the U.S. Treasury in Birmingham, causing computer delays [unreadable] in issuance [unreadable] checks. [unreadable] Social Security [unreadable] up at a garage [unreadable] street from Atlantis. This check either had been addressed incorrectly at Heritage House or delivered by the postman to the wrong address. An employee at the garage [unreadable] carried the check to Atlantis. [unreadable]the long postal [unreadable] involving the [unreadable] change of address cards. It took 13 days [unreadable] cards to make the 10 min journey from the South Denver postal station to the Belmar station by way of the post office's Terminal Annex. At Belmar, employes didn't follow postal regulations and send these cards immediately to Heritage House. This was not done until June 12, after an Atlantis representative contacted Belmar postal officials about the check delays. Responding to Denver Post inquiries, postal officials said they couldn’t explain the 13-day delay. [Subheading] RETURNED CHECK Another handicapped person, at Heritage House and then at Craig Rehabilitation Center before coming to Atlantis, didn't receive his Social Security check for June because Heritage House sent his May check back to the U.S. Treasury. This action placed the handicapped person's file "in suspense"- delaying issuance of future checks. Local postal and Social Security officials have told The Post they are -"distressed" over these situations. "It shouldn't have happened... I agree with this 100 per cent," said Thomas O'Halloran, administrator at Heritage House. But he said the Heritage House clerk was “just following my orders" to return checks to the sender when no forwarding address is available. However, O'Halloran acknowledged that the clerk knew of the Atlantis project and knew that the former Heritage House residents had gone to Atlantis. The clerk's judgment to send the checks back to the U.S. Treasury, rather than to Atlantis, "was not proper at that time," O'Halloran said. [Subheading] EVERYTHING 'COVERED’.. Everett Caldwell, branch manager of the Social Security office in Lakewood, said he thought “everything was covered" when the change-of-address cards were filed with the post office for the Atlantis residents. "We thought their checks would simply be forwarded," he said. But when the checks went to Heritage House, the nursing home should have contacted his office, Caldwell said." "And we should have clued in Heritage House—but we didn't do it,” Caldwell added. He acknowledged that Atlantis residents had given him data in time to make their increased Social Security payments. But Social Security's national computer, he explained, is set up so that it couldn't accept this data until June 1. when the change in the handicapped persons’ living status was to take effect. And that means about a 16-day delay before the checks arrive, he said. The Denver Post Office “knows that something went wrong, but we don't know exactly what it was," said Dick Sealer, the post offices Denver district director for customer services. By the time the change—of-address cards had been delivered tardily by the post office to Heritage House, “the damage had been done"- the checks had been returned to the Treasury, Sealer conceded. [Subheading] STEPS TAKEN Officials at both federal agencies and at Heritage House said late last week that steps have been taken to prevent a recurrence of this situation, and lapses in procedures will be corrected. Meanwhile, through Caldwell’s persistent efforts, three of the Atlantis residents have received part of their Social Security payments for June and other payments are expected to be made soon. Caldwell said, however, that he wished Atlantis had informed him sooner about the check delays. Because of those delays, Atlantis, still in in a precarious financial situation, according to Linda Chism, the project' accountant, funds that Atlantis [unreadable] to its recent drive for founder members were exhausted recently in paying Atlantis attendants’ salaries, she said. And she stresses that there still is a desperate need for donations from other persons who wish to become founder members of Atlantis, headquartered at 1232 Federal Boulevard. [Subheading] MIKE'S BATTLE For Mike Smith, it is a touch-and-go battle. Early last week, he regained consciousness and greeted his mother, with a cheerful “Hi, Mom!" By late last week, Mike still was confined to bed at Atlantis and still was using an oxygen tank to ease his breathing. Other medical assistance was being provided to Mike. But no matter what happens, Mike said then, Atlantis will succeed, because persons in this group have the driving desire to make it succeed. This intense desire is reflected in much of the highly imaginative and deeply moving poetry Mike has written over the years-- poetry which fills five notebooks. In the opening of one of these poems, Mike wrote of a final journey. But there also is something here which tells of his strong and enduring commitment to Atlantis and to those working so hard for its success. In this poem, Mike wrote: “I feel my spirit surging inside, Speeding and whirling along, Like a mighty March wind, blasting into April, Making the trees bow low for the royalty of the wind. Like a child of innocence, I see my dream before me. And I shall surpass any mountain, or ill or death itself . . .“ Photo Denver Post, David Cupp: A woman (Linda Chism) sits in a power chair with a lap board. Her short legs are extended straight in front of her and covered with cloth. She has a big smile, or laugh on her face. Caption reads: LINDA CHISM LAUGHS AS SHE ENJOYS A SPRING DAY. She says delays put Atlantis in precarious situation.
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Rocky Mountain News 5-18-84 PHOTO (ROCKY MOUNTAIN NEWS STAFF PHOTO BY DAVID CORNWELL): A large meeting room in a business or hotel type setting. In the foreground a tough looking protester in a wheelchair holds a sign in front of him and looks sideways at the camera. Behind him more protesters in wheelchairs and men in suits stand around not looking at each other. Behind them is a table with 5 other people in wheelchairs sitting at it. Caption reads: Protesters meet with McDonald's representatives, standing from left, Joe Hill, Don Fowler and Dennis Morris. [Headline] McDonald’s officials, disabled to confer by Arnold Levinson, Rocky Mountain News Staff Writer A group of people who have threatened to block selected McDonald's restaurants around the country will meet with the company’s national executives to demand that the chain improve access for handicapped customers. The agreement to hold higher-level discussions was reached Monday in a wheelchair-packed room of the Denver Holiday lnn, where two dozen disabled people bargained for several hours with regional officials of the fast-food company. Both sides said afterward that the McDonald's national marketing and construction directors, as well as the vice president for store licensing, would attend the next meeting, which isn't scheduled yet. The outcome of Monday's meeting suggested that McDonald's is taking seriously the demands - and the threats — of ACCESS, a small, loosely knit coalition of handicapped-advocacy groups nationwide. Last week ACCESS members, most in wheelchairs, picketed two McDonald's restaurants in Denver. Led by members of the Atlantis Community, ACCESS vowed to begin a campaign against McDonald’s in several cities unless certain demands were met. “They can stop this thing from spreading today, or they can stonewall us and it will spread,” the Rev. Wade Blank, Atlantis Community leader, said Monday before the meeting. Jim Parker, a 38-year-old quadriplegic from El Paso, Texas, said afterward that ACCESS wants McDonald’s to promise that: * Entranceways,‘bathrooms and seating in all future outlets be “fully accessible" to the disabled. * Handicapped people appear in 10 percent of the company's advertisements. * The company make restaurants handicapped-accessible within a period yet to be agreed upon. McDonald’s regional officials declined comment Monday beyond saying that negotiations will resume within 30 days to address "the issues brought to our attention today." The regional office oversees operations in Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and part of Arizona. The company's national media office failed to respond to a request for information about McDonald's policies toward the handicapped. Behind the decision by ACCESS to target McDonald's are several factors, said Blank, not the least of which is the ripple effect that could occur if an accord is reached with a large, visible symbol of industry. If you can beat the big ones," said Blank, “the others will fall in place.” McDonald’s inaugurated the fast-food industry and leads competitors in the world market. Blank said the move on McDonald’s, which he called “symbolic of free enterprise," also represents a decision to take on the business sector after winning gains, such as bus lifts and curb ramps, from government. He acknowledged that last week's demonstrations were timed to coincide with the presence in Denver of about two dozen disabled people who arrived May 1 to study at the ACCESS Institute. The Atlantis Community uses the institute to teach its methods of advocacy. Alongside these political considerations is criticism of McDonald’s policies toward the handicapped, particularly what Blank called delays in remodeling older stores. “My daughter is in a wheelchair, and I can’t get her to a table," he said of one local McDonald's outlet “The only place she can eat is in the restroom, because it’s accessible."
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November 1992 Access USA News Page 5 Atlantis leads to ADAPT leads to independence Cathy Seabaugh, Staff Writer DENVER,CO-Their offices are relatively small compared to the massive projects the American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today organization tackles. An inconspicuous location in south central Denver serves as national headquarters for the 29 states who have ADAPT chapters. This Colorado town is a gold mine for members of the disabled community, not so much for its accessibility and attitudes, but for the brainstem which this office at 12 Broadway has become. ADAPT representatives throughout the United States act as nerve endings, sending vital messages to the Denver office so it can operate efficiently and effectively. Effectiveness: a term well defined by ADAPT members. ADAPT was conceived and delivered by staff and volunteers of Atlantis Community, founded in 1975 by former nursing home employee Wade Blank and Mike Auberger, a quadriplegic from a bobsledding accident in 1971. Atlantis emerged so that individuals, even those who are severely, multiply-disabled, have the option to live outside an institution. ln its first l5 years, Atlantis was able to successfully transition more than 400 disabled adults from “sheltered settings" to more independent living standards. As an admirable offspring of Atlantis, ADAPT set its own agenda in June 1983 and embarked on an action-packed mission to make public transportation accessible to everyone. American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit set out to train, develop and empower disabled activists so they could effectively battle for that accessibility. Eighteen members of the Atlantis community had taken the first strides toward accessible public transportation in Denver when they gathered on July 5&6, 1978, to block city buses at Broadway and Colfax across from the state capitol. ‘Then in 1982, after beating up the board enough," said Auberger, one of the 18, "they decided they'd buy all lift-equipped buses." Once ADAPT formed the next year, the foundation was in place. With Denver as a model, activists began chipping away at other cities’ granite-like, antiquated public transportation systems. "(Former President Jimmy) Carter appointed Brock Adams in 1976 and Adams set a federal mandate that all new buses bought with federal money had to have (wheelchair) lifts,” Auberger said. "Under the Reagan administration, APTA (American Public Transit Association) sued (to avoid the lift requirements) and won. "APTA was having its national convention in Denver in October 1983 and about 20 people from across the country showed up to join about 22 people from Denver. We sent notice to (APTA) that their convention would not go uninterrupted if they did not meet with us. They went to the mayor, but he said he wouldn't protect them unless they agreed to meet with us.” ADAPT met APTA there. They would meet many more times. "We decided wherever they had a convention, we would go,” Auberger said. "It moved us around to communities where they'd never been exposed to the issues. People all of a sudden became aware. "If we're talking about the issues, people are going to form an opinion. You polarize people. Whether they support you or not is not the point. If there's not an opinion there, you can't change it." The deep roots, pockets or whatever of APTA were a long-time barrier for ADAPT. But as the Americans with Disabilities Act cemented and included regulations for public transportation, APTA’s resistance to ADAPT's demands weakened until the federal govemment finally made ADA the law. With that priceless piece of legislation signed and inducted into the pages of history, ADAPT was ready for its next mission. "What we said at that point to members was to put out feelers in your communities,” Auberger said. "What we found was personal assistants was the biggest issue of concern.” Retaining the ADAPT acronym, the group devised new plans to force change in the long-term health care system of the United States. “At least 60 percent of ADAPT members have (resided) in nursing homes at one time or another,” Auberger said, "The other 40 percent have spent their lives trying to avoid going into one.” Although ADAPT and Atlantis are neither to lose its identity in the other, they are a family unit and work together toward change. Atlantis is a certified home health care agency, making 53,000 visits each year in Denver and Colorado Springs, serving approximately 85 clients. “That's 365 days a year, whether there's three feet of snow on the ground or it's 105 degrees," Auberger said. “We have a 24-hours-a-day emergency backup system that works probably 98 percent of the time." One Atlantis client is a C2 quadriplegic who is on a ventilator nonstop. Yet he is allowed to live in his own home with the help of Atlantis personal attendants. "That shows you our capabilities,” Auberger said. ”We can provide 24-hour care for about $7,500 a year. A nursing home would do it for $20,000.” ADAPT’s scrapbook for the past two years includes protests in almost countless cities throughout the country. Wherever Dr. Louis Sullivan, Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, made a speech or appearance, ADAPT added itself to the invitation list. The protests usually involved arrests, which is a proven effective tool for drawing media coverage. Radical activity, some say. "We really give the middle-of-the-road disabled community members the power to make change," Auberger said. "We make them look sane. “It's like in Illinois, Gov. Edgar didn't have a problem meeting with the straight group who went to Springfield because they were sane. lf he dealt with our radical group, he'd have to deal with all radical groups. We really give (middle-of-the-road community members) a platform." ADAPT picks on Sullivan because, they say, he can initiate change. They argue that Sullivan's signature is all that's necessary to require the states receiving Medicaid to provide personal assistants. Just more than half the states provide such funding and many; if not all, of those programs are underfunded, restricted and far short of meeting the demand. ADAPT seeks to convince Health and Human Services - Sullivan - to take one-third of the $15 billion Medicaid dollars and commit it to home-based, consumer-controlled services. "Every state that buys into Medicaid has to fund nursing homes,” Auberger said, explaining how the system currently works. Sixty-five percent of all money paid to nursing homes is Medicaid funds. "States have little play in what they can do with Medicaid.” Nursing homes use what's called a “cold bed rate" which refers to the empty beds in their institutions that are not producing income. Lobbyists for the nursing home industry are looking at these rates and profit margins, not at long-term care that allows individuals to retain their independence. "We’ve become a valuable commodity,” Auberger said. "It's a normal mindset to put someone in a nursing home. This is so ingrained in our society. There's currently no alternative, and most people aren't able to envision the type of care we're talking about." Auberger encourages every person he can to write letters to members of Congress, senators and other politicians who can have an impact on the future of people with disabilities. "When you do that, you raise a level of consciousness,” he said. "You don't have to mention (the numbers), just the concept. "The logic is the problem. When parents are doing (personal attendant care), for free, it doesn't have to be skilled. When Medicaid pays for that same care, a nurse has to do it.” Statistics provided by the American Health Care Association show the average lifespan on an individual in a nursing home is 21 months. "You can't convince me there's quality care in a nursing home," Auberger said. "We (at Atlantis) are non-medical personal attendants. When the staff goes into a home, the person in that home is the boss. We do things the way they want us to do them. "People don't have to give up their power to able-bodied people. But it's okay to share the power." Although many members of the disabled community have made endorsements this election year, ADAPT chooses to remain rather neutral - for a change. "Don't pick a side,” Auberger said. "As soon as you pick a side and that side loses, you now have an enemy on the other side. That's been real effective tor us. We'll rate candidates on disability issues, but we won't endorse anyone. "If there's a disability issue in Colorado, legislators call here, the media calls here. We're a powerful entity in this state. As hundreds of ADAPT activists confronted the annual conference of the nursing home industry in San Francisco October 19-21, the power of this entity spread toward the Pacific. Persons interested in more information about ADAPT can call Auberger or Wade Blank at (303) 733-9324 (voice and TDD). INSERT AT CENTER OF PAGE: Across the top in bold letters the word "ATLANTIS" and below that ADAPT's new Free Our People logo, the wheelchair access symbol with it's arms raised above its head breaking chains that are bound to it's wrists. Above this figure, in a semi-circular pattern the words "Free Our People" and below, also in a semi-circular pattern, "ADAPT"
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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
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Wade Blank, from the waist up, wearing a black ADAPT Free Our People T-shirt. He has long - below the shoulder length - straight blonde hair parted in the middle, and he is wearing round tinted glasses. Behind him you can see the red and white stripes of the ADAPT flag.
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Column title: PEOPLE WHO MAKE A DIFFERENCE Photo: A downward shot of Wade Blank standing with his hands clasped. He has his signature long hair and tinted glasses and is wearing an anorak. Someone is partially visible behind Wade. Caption reads: Wade Blank dedicated almost 20 years of his life to fighting for civil rights for people with disabilities. The members of ADAPT - the disability rights organization Blank founded - will continue the battle in his memory. Title: A True Activist Wade Blank was raised in Canton, OH, where he learned to be a Cleveland Browns football fan. a condition that caused him great pain throughout his life. He earned the equivalent of a doctoral degree in theology from McCormick Seminary in Chicago, where he was ordained a Presbyterian minister. After seven years as a minister, he decided to take a year off for “human service" and became an orderly in a nursing home. His experiences there with young adults with disabilities led him to establish the second independent living center in the nation in 1975—the Atlantis Community. Wade Blank dedicated almost 20 years of his life to fighting for civil rights for people with disabilities. The members of ADAPT—the disability rights organization Blank founded will continue the battle in his memory. Blanks first years in his efforts to win civil rights for people who have disabilities were spent eliminating attitudinal and architectural barriers in Denver. Beginning with l2 young adults with disabilities who were placed in a nursing home for lack of any other options, Blank led them on an exodus into their own homes in the community, where he successfully persuaded the legislature to fund needed personal care assistance outside an institution for the first time. Since then, the Atlantis Community has liberated more than 900 people with severe disabilities from institutions and other sheltered settings and provides the services and support they require to maintain themselves in the community. Once the people of Atlantis entered the "free world," they found that society was completely unprepared to include them. So Blank and his friends set off to integrate Denver. The public buses they needed were inaccessible to wheelchairs. Blank led training sessions and actions that escalated from addressing the transit board to civil disobedience, blocking the buses people with disabilities couldn't ride. This seven-year campaign resulted in a 100% accessible bus system that offers affordable, self determined transportation to over 30,000 riders with disabilities in the area, and it developed an assertive group of people who vowed to fight for and win full and equal rights in their society. As the reputation of Denver as the most accessible city in the nation spread, activists from every state began to call for advice and help. ln1983, Blank founded ADAPT (American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit) as a training project. The dramatic actions of ADAPT members have generated publicity that has raised awareness of disability rights throughout the nation, trained over 1,200 activists in the “fire” of civil disobedience, and provided the political muscle behind the Americans with Disabilities Act. When the right to access to public transit was won in 1990, ADAPT’s name was changed to American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today. The new focus is on winning a federal mandate and funding for personal assistance services for every person with a disability in the nation who needs such help to live independently. Blank and his son Lincoln drowned on February 15, 1993, off the Baja Coast. The people of ADAPT will continue the struggle for this essential victory in their memories until all Americans with disabilities have the opportunity to choose to live independent lives. —By Molly Blank
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Rocky Mountain News Sunday Magazine Sunday, May 25, 1986 Column title: people to watch Photo by Dick Davis: Wade Blank is sitting by a window with a rainbow and Atlantis Community painted on the outside so the letters are backward in this picture. There are some plants and some papers on a counter between Wade and the window. Wade has on a plaid button up shirt, his tinted glasses and long blonde hair parted in the middle. He is smiling. Title: Wade Blank: A smooth ride Occupation and activities: Wade Blank is the founder of Atlantis Community. a group that helps severely disabled people live on their own, outside of nursing homes. He is a Presbyterian minister who helped draft resisters flee to Canada in the 1960s and organized the disabled to fight for their rights in the '70s and '80s. During one demonstration he and several people with disabilities took sledge hammers to a city curb, to show the problems people in wheelchairs have getting around on city sidewalks. "My goal is for the community to understand," he says. "And understand that will be a long process.“ Age: 45. Birthplace: Pittsburgh. Marital status: Married, with a one and a half year-old son and a 15-year-old daughter. Worse job: “I worked for Sparkle Wash Truck and Mobile Home Wash. l went out and washed semi-trucks and mobile homes -- a wash and a wax ior $20." Car: 1977 Dodge wheelchair van; 1972 Volkswagen bug. Favorite vacation spot: Moab, Utah. Favorite music group: Talking Heads. Favorite movie: Apocalypse Now. The worst part of my job: “Trying to get the state to reimburse me for the services we've provided." I first became interested in the problems of the disabled: "When I started as an orderly in a nursing home in 1971. I was going to work every day and asking myself, if I was disabled, is this the way I'd want to live the rest of my life? One of the things that shook me to the core: There was one woman, she was 20 years old with polio and she was going back to high school we (had) filed an action to force the school systems to accept the disabled in school she couldn't deal with her classmates knowing she lived in a nursing home. She committed suicide. That's when I decided to bail out of the nursing home model. What can you do to make a nursing home more acceptable? You just can't." Most painful experience: “When that woman committed suicide. She hung on about 10 days. I remember going to St. Anthony's, watching her on the breathing machine and hoping she'd make it. It was almost my personal guilt; people said, ‘if you wouldn't have subjected her to the outside world, if the nurses had total control (at the nursing home), this kind of thing never would have happened.' When they told me she stopped breathing, I had to take a leave of absence." One thing I can’t stand: "Suits and ties." Nobody knows I’m: "Sentimental." Most irrational act: "When I first came to Denver. I hung around people against the (Vietnam) war. We were going to shut down 16th and California (with a sit in). I sat down. And when the police said, ‘Move,’ everybody moved except me. To this day. when I saw everybody getting up, I don't know why I didn't get up and move." My biggest regret: “That people come into your life and go out of your life and that we can't maintain constant friendship with everybody." Worst advice my parents gave me: "You can change the system from within." My most embarrassing moment: “I was preaching at this church. It was a hot July day and a congregation of very elderly people. l said, ‘For the closing hymn, will everyone remain seated.‘ We always sang Stand Up for Jesus at the closing hymn. So here's the congregation sitting there singing Stand Up For Jesus. I don't know lf anybody figured out the irony of the situation, but I sure did." If I could change one thing about myself: "I'd be less compulsive." A final word: "All the disabled want is to live like everyone else. That's all we represent: the right to ride public transportation, the right to go into any restaurant to eat, the right to have enough money to survive, like everyone else. My daughter is 15 years old and in a wheelchair. l have the same hopes for her that anybody else does. that she should be able to go to school and move around the country just like anybody else."
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Letterhead: logo with two stylized wings? or ribs? or plant? National Committee for the Rosa L Parks Shrine 9311 Wildemere Detroit Michigan 48206 Tele 313-898-6776 October 3, 1986 ADAPT Atlantis Community Inc. Rev. Wade Blank Eastside Office 4536 E. Colfax Denver, Colorado 80220 Dear Rev. Blank, Mrs. Parks will not be participating in the press conference on October 5, 1986 at twelve noon for ADAPT because, of the tramatic manner in which you choose to dramatize disabled Americans lack of access to public transportation. Mrs. Parks supports active peaceful protest of human rights issues not, tactics that will embarrass the cities guest and cripple the cities present transportation system. We do not wish any American to be discriminated against in transportation or any other form that reduces their equality and dignity however, we cannot condone disruption of Detroit city services. Please excuse the sudden withdrawal from what we originally thought was a conference to present ADAPT's issues on equal rights for disabled Americans in public transportation to the City of Detroit. We wish you success in securing equal rights for all users of public transportation. Very truly yours, Elaine Steele, Assistant to Rosa L. Parks
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The Denver Post, Metro section, Tuesday Jan. 5, 1982 2 PHOTOS, The Denver Post / John J Sunderland: First: Through bars that look a bit like the ropes in a boxing ring, a man in a wheelchair (Mark Johnson) sits, chin resting on his hand, and looks on thoughtfully as a police officer writes something on a piece of paper on a surface in front of them. The officer is leaning forward almost over Mark, and Mark looks calm and very thoughtful as he watches. Caption reads: Mark Johnson, 30, was one of two protesters cited Monday at Regional Transportation District offices. He later left and was not charged. Second photo: In a brick covered room, a person in a wheelchair has his back to the camera and facing a man who is blocking his way. The man standing faces the camera and points toward it. Caption reads: Bob West, Regional Transportation District director of security, tells demonstrator he won't be allowed to obstruct business. Bus Plan Protesters Chain Selves By GEORGE LANE, Denver Urban Affairs Writer Wheelchair-bound protesters chained themselves to stairway railings and blocked the main entrance to local transit offices for about 90 minutes Monday until police removed them from the building. Two persons were cited for trespassing as 13 disabled persons in wheelchairs and about an equal number of attendants and supporters participated in the protest at the offices of the Regional Transportation District. Spokesmen for the group vowed they will return today. The demonstration was organized primarily by members of the Atlantis Community for the disabled and Wade Blank, co-administrator of Atlantis, to protest a decision by the RTD board of directors not to put wheelchair lifts on 89 high-capacity, articulated buses slated to be added to the RTD bus fleet in 1983. RTD officials allowed the demonstrators access to the building at 1600 Blake St. about 11 a.m. and raised no objections as the protesters held a press conference. During the press conference RTD was accused of reneging on a promise and violating the civil rights of the disabled by not ordering the lifts on the new buses. Following the press conference, “out of order" signs on two elevators foiled the group's plan to stage a sit-in at the third floor offices of L.A. "Kim" Kimball, RTD's executive director and general manager. “Kimball is as accessible as his buses," remarked one of the demonstrators. A brief scuffle occurred about 11:20 a.m. when Blank and several attendants attempted to carry three wheelchair occupants up a spiral stairway to Kimball‘s office. Mike Hughes, an RTD security officer, blocked the trip up the steps. The three wheelchairs with their occupants eventually were chained and padlocked to the handrailing of the stairway. Two more wheelchairs later were chained and padlocked to the landing of another stairway. The front entrance to the building was then blocked by five or six motorized wheelchairs as about a dozen policemen waited across the street. Capt. Bill Brannan ordered the demonstrators to leave the building. He then said those refusing to leave the building would be cited and ordered to appear in court it he believed they understood what they were doing. When the policemen and paramedics entered to evacuate the building, only Stephan Saunders, 31, and Mark Johnson, 30, would give their names to police. Both men were given misdemeanor citations for obstructing a government operation and obstructing a public passageway. The charges against Johnson, however, weren't filed because he later decided to leave the building voluntarily.