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Forside / Albummer / Tags ADAPT - American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit
+ curb cuts 2
ADAPT (1789)
The Handicapped Coloradan / Page 15 & 16 [This article continues in ADAPT 1786, but has been completely included here for easier reading.] Title: "If heaven isn't accessible God had better Watch out!" Photo: Waist up picture of Wade Blank with his below shoulder length blonde hair and round tinted glasses. He is smiling and wearing a vest. Caption reads: Wade Blank ADAPT founder dies in Mexico. Wade Blank went down to Baja, California, in February and drowned there trying to save his eight year old son Lincoln. He was there vacationing with his family. The money for the trip came from Wade’s share of a legal settlement in San Francisco when bad guys violated the civil rights of ADAPT demonstrators. He couldn't afford that kind of trip on his own. He never made more than $16,000 in his life. Lincoln was in the water swimming. An undertow got him and Wade went in after him. He had to know there was very little chance either one would survive. Some fisherman from a nearby village fished Wade’ s body from the water. His wife Molly brought his body home and they covered the coffin with an American flag. Only the stars on this flag formed a wheelchair. Lincoln’s body was never recovered. A few days before he left on that vacation, I told him to skip Baja and its treacherous waters for the calmer seas off Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. Wade said he’d think about it but we both knew he wouldn’t alter his plans. Wade Blank liked to be where the action was. Many of the 1100 people who filled the ballroom at the Radisson Hotel on Sunday, Feb. 21, to say goodbye to their fallen comrade had accompanied him into battle. “If heaven isn’t accessible,” one of them warned, “God better watch out!” Wade founded the Atlantis Community in 1975 when he helped several disabled people move out of a nursing home and into their own apartments. Then he went on to help organize protests against RTD for not having wheelchairs lifts on its buses, a move that later led to the creation of ADAPT, which then stood for American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (“The hard part is getting the acronym right,” he told me at the time.) I asked Tom Olin who was going to replace Wade. “No one,” he said. “Wade was into empowering disabled people. It’s a tribute to him that we’ll just keep on going.” Maybe. But it won’t be the same. People like Wade Blank don't come along very often. A writer for Westward once called Wade the nearest thing to a saint he had ever met. But Wade wasn’t perfect. After all, he was a Cleveland Browns’ fan. He had it so bad that on game day he’d call home to his folks in Ohio and have them put the phone next to the radio. He was president of the Cleveland Browns Fans in Exile Club. A small part of him died when Elway found Jackson in the end zone in the 1987 AFC Championship game. He was a devoted father who had a vasectomy reversed after he married Molly. He called me soon after the operation and bitched about having to lie still to prevent the tubes from severing again. It was the only time I knew him to stay still. The time spent was worth it. He loved Lincoln and Caitlan just as he loved Heather, his adopted daughter. He instilled in them special values. A neighbor recalled a time when she came home and observed Lincoln in front of his house directing some other kids. They weren't playing cowboy and Indian or war or any of the usual childhood games. They were playing rally. “All right,” Lincoln said. “United we stand, never apart.” Wade was a Presbyterian minister whose language would make a coal miner blush. I quoted him a lot on these pages over the past ten years or so but I never quoted him accurately. He used four letter words the way other people use punctuation. Someone made a TV movie about the events at Heritage Nursing Home and Wade said it was close to the truth. But the actor who played Wade didn’t quite capture his style. Wade wore his hair long and looked a little like a construction worker who took a wrong tum back in the 1960s. He once asked me if I wore ties. “I own one,” I said. “It keeps my sleeping bag rolled up.” He liked that. He hated ties. At the memorial service, those few men who showed up wearing ties were asked to remove them—out of respect. By then I owned a real tie. You can‘t go to a funeral in my small hometown without one. I left it at home for Wade. He didn’t have the eloquence of a Martin Luther King. He didn't need it. He wasn’t interested in grabbing the spotlight for himself. He taught his friends that their wheelchairs were a weapon and if they used them right, the whole world would take notice. RTD took notice. Denver became one of the first cities in the U.S. to adopt accessible public transit. Wade helped carry that message to countless other cities. He showed people how they could make a statement by going to jail and then he went out and raised the bail money. Eventually, in a parking lot in Atlanta, the feds gave in. Accessible public transit would be the law of the land. Wade wasn’t about to rest on his laurels. He turned his attention to an earlier cause. ADAPT changed the acronym to American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today and took on the nursing home industry. Wade knew that the disabled warriors who took on the federal government over accessible transit and got themselves arrested scores of times were strong enough to live in their own homes. He vowed to force the federal government to take money away from the nursing homes and make that dream a reality. That battle goes on. His friends at ADAPT are planning a memorial service in his honor in Washington, D.C. this May. At the same time, they’re going to make sure Bill Clinton honors his promises to provide funds for such attendant care. It's a fitting memorial but you can find plenty of monuments to Wade Blank in this country. There one at every street comer where there’s a curb cut and one on every bus equipped with a lift. And every time someone who is exploited because of a physical disability raises a fist in defiance and fights for his or her freedom and humanity, you’ll see Wade’s image in their eyes and his dream in their hearts. So long, Wade. If it’s really heaven, there won’t be a dress code. Written by Tom Schantz
ADAPT (433)
Transit activists wheel into action on South Shore By PEGGY CURRAN Of the Gazette In March, Bill Bolte took a sledge-hammer to Hollywood's star-studded Walk of Fame because it wasn't wheelchair-accessible. Bolte was arrested, although the vandalism charge was dropped, he says, "in the interests of justice." Six months later, Bolte says the city of Los Angeles has come up with $360,000 to cut access ramps along the 2.5-kilometre sidewalk. On Monday night, the wheelchair-bound American was arrested again - for the 14th time - when he chained himself to the doors of the underground parking garage at Place Ville Marie. Released from Bordeaux Jail yesterday but banned from demonstrating on the island of Montreal, he joined about 20 disabled people who took their crusade for better public transit across the bridge. There were no arrests during the brief, boisterous sit-in at the Brossard bus terminal. But Bolte said another arrest was a risk he was ready to take as a member of ADAPT - American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit. [Subheading] `Not willing to go last' "Our only ability is to embarrass and expose the position of the able-bodied power structure, which is basically 'You go last,' " Bolte said. "Well, we aren't willing to go last any more." For about half an hour during afternoon rush hour, members of ADAPT and their supporters staged a rowdy demonstration at the terminal on Taschereau Blvd. Chanting "we will ride," about five disabled people parked their wheelchairs in front of a Montreal-bound bus. That forced the South Shore transit authority to empty the bus and have passengers board other buses idling on Taschereau Blvd. One of the disabled protesters, Marthe Bail of Quebec City, succeeded in boarding the bus by pulling herself out of her wheelchair and clinging to the handrails. Bail, one of only four Quebecers who took part in yesterday's protest, said disabled Quebecers have a fundamental right to public transit. And she said they shouldn't have to rely on the woefully inadequate service now provided. [Subheading] Sympathetic response In Montreal, for instance, she said disabled passengers must make reservations 48 hours in advance whenever they want to use the service. And the buses don't cross bridges, ruling out trips to Laval and the South Shore. Pierre Beaudoin, whose bus was blocked by the protesters, said he respects their demands. Beaudoin said he believes it would be possible to redesign regular buses to provide access to the disabled by installing lifts and setting aside space for wheelchairs. For the most part, commuters who witnessed the demonstration were also sympathetic. "They feel they have to do this to achieve their goals," said Andre Plante. "Who are we to complain? What's a delay of a few minutes? These people are handicapped for life." Brossard resident Francine Labrosse said she doesn't think ADAPT's demands are very realistic. I don't think the inside of the bus is wide enough for wheelchairs even if the lifts they want were installed," Labrosse said. "Of course, if the government decides it wants something anything is possible." But at least one South Shore resident was outraged by the demonstration. "How am I supposed to' get to work?" a livid Joseph Pacheco screamed at bus driver Beaudoin. "Am I supposed to take a taxi? That will cost me $11. Who is going to pay' for that?"