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בית / אלבומים / תגית radicals 2
ADAPT (223)
MAinstream magazine [No date] [This story continues in ADAPT 222, but is contained here in its entirety for reading ease.] [Headline] ADAPT takes the fast lane to make transit accessible By Michael Ervin San Antonio—The first indication that something was about to happen came when an oversized, stretch-limo of a van pulled up beside the Alamo and a wheelchair lift uncurled out of the back door. The colorful banner on the side of the van read: ACCESS FOR ALL. Six more people in wheelchairs were in another van parked in a lot down the street. As they proceeded down the sidewalk to join the demonstration in front of the Alamo the pedestrians stopped and looked them over. A parade of people in wheelchairs is bound to draw stares. But the expressions accompanying these stares were unique—welcoming, supportive, somewhat star struck. Maybe they knew they were coming. Before the 50 or so members of various chapters of American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit even arrived here there were stories in the media about previous ADAPT confrontations with the American Public Transit Association (APTA.) Television news showed footage of the mass arrests that occurred last October in Washington, D.C. when ADAPT members tried to force their way into the center where APTA was holding its annual convention. That's the kind of escalating media coverage Wade Blank likes to see. He’s the main force behind ADAPT. “We're becoming famous. When we had our first ADAPT meeting in Denver in 1982, our goal was to make the officials of any city we were coming to nervous. We wanted them to say, ‘No! Not here! We don’t want ‘em!’” They were certainly nervous in San Antonio. When a horde of people in wheelchairs showed up at the offices of the local transit authority for a noisy demonstration, the employees locked themselves in a large office as if they were afraid ADAPT was going to take them out one by one and shoot them. And when the march that began at the Alamo turned into an equally raucous occupation of the lobby of the posh hotel where APTA people were staying, hotel security had no idea what to do. And the bewildered looks of the innocent tourists were amusing. They’d certainly never seen anything like that before. “Seeing a bunch of disabled crazies blocking buses and doing things like that redefines everything everybody’s been conditioned to believe about the disabled," Blank says. This radical redefinition of what the disabled are (in the eyes of both the disabled and nondisabled) is what ADAPT is all about. And having stuffy APTA conferences and conventions as a backdrop helps make that point. APTA’s primary sin, according to ADAPT, is that it spent big bucks on a lawsuit that struck down the federal mandate that all fixed-route public buses be lift-equipped. ADAPT sees equal transit access as the most basic civil right. “It's the same segregation as when blacks had to sit in the back of the bus or yield their seats to whites. Except it’s even worse,” says Blank. “The disabled can’t even get on the bus.” By using APTA as a symbol of the stifling paternalism that keeps the disabled in a position of dependency, ADAPT makes the immorality of inaccessible public transit quite clear. *** Wade Blank is an ordained minister who never goes to church. “It’s in the true Jesus tradition. He was kicked out of the synagogue and never went back.” Blank worked in a nursing home for a few years after seminary. It frustrated him to see the disabled friends he made there stuck there simply because they had no place else to go. So in 1976 he and some others began Atlantis, an independent living center in Denver. ADAPT was born of Atlantis. Blank says Atlantis likes to “do the impossible” in terms of working with clients who have the deepest holes of dependency to dig out of. Frank, a man with cerebral palsy who was part of the ADAPT Denver caravan to San Antonio, was sprung by Atlantis in 1976 from a nursing home he had been in since 1934. Another woman began feeding herself for the first time when she became part of Atlantis. She was always physically able to. Her mother just didn't want her making a mess. Another woman had never seen a head of lettuce. Her salads had always come to her prepared. It’s rather stunning seeing people who were mired in the world of please and thank you traveling around the country, blocking buses and maybe getting arrested. It’s gotten ADAPT and Atlantis in trouble with irate relatives. The father of a woman arrested for blocking buses in Denver told Wade that since he was a reverend he must be brainwashing his daughter into joining his cult, just like Jim Jones. He said he was going to tell the newspapers so they could investigate. But Blank says, “All we’re saying to people in Atlantis and ADAPT is, ‘You are an important person.’ I just tell them (the irate relatives) that people get excited when they see that they are important and that they are expected to be somebody.” In 1978, it became clear that the mission of Atlantis could never be fully accomplished as long as Denver’s public transit system was totally inaccessible. What good was it to set someone up in an accessible apartment if they couldn’t move beyond it? They might as well have still been in the nursing home. So the Atlantis people took to the streets of Denver. They blocked buses. They held sit-ins in the transit authority offices. They got arrested. But four years later, they won and Denver is on its way to full access. [Bordered text box in center of page: “We created a drama and let it unfold . . .I guess we raised consciousness.”] The next year, APTA made the mistake of holding its convention in Denver. The target was too tempting for Atlantis to resist. Here was the personification of everything Atlantis opposed right on its step and begging to be hit. Atlantis formed a permanent transportation component call ADAPT. They organized confrontations around the convention and vowed to follow APTA everywhere until it passed ADAPT ’s resolution renouncing the lawsuit and the damage it did. These confrontations would also provide a focal point and a training ground for activists from other cities so they could form their own ADAPT chapters. Mike Auberger of Atlantis is a quadriplegic resulting from a bobsled accident during the 1972 Olympic time trials. “When we started ADAPT, we were a bunch of crazy nuts. A year later, we were a possibility. Now, we’re a reality. We started in one city and here we are about 20 cities. We must be selling something everybody needs.” The hope is that the feeling of self-importance that inspired the disabled of Denver will be as infectious in San Antonio and in cities all over America. ADAPT paved the way in San Antonio by creating a three-day headache for the police and transit authority and forcing them to take the issue very seriously. They also permanently etched the issue on the minds of the people of San Antonio with pictures on the front page of the newspaper of disabled people blocking APTA tour buses. “We created a drama and let it unfold,” Blank says. “I was talking to a reporter and I said, ‘I guess we raised consciousness.’ She said, ‘Boy did you! That’s all this town is talking about.’ ” “Now you can’t say that about too many political movements today.” But even if it doesn’t play in San Antonio, Auberger sees what happened there as another battle won. “Again we took on APTA and beat them. You’ve got this guy in a $300 suit and a designer tie with his initials and a soup stain on it. More and more people are starting to see APTA that way.” If success can be judged by police reaction, ADAPT is accomplishing a lot. Knowing ADAPT ’s penchant for blocking buses, the police routed buses away from areas with high ratios of wheelchair-users. They obviously did their homework by talking to police in other cities who had to deal with ADAPT. A television news report even told of how San Antonio police intelligence photographers were following ADAPT members around. And it’s clear that transit authorities are taking ADAPT very seriously too. The next target is Los Angeles, where APTA will hold its convention in October. ADAPT has obtained a copy of a private memo of the Southern California Rapid Transit District that speaks of the authority’s plans to spend $10,000 to $15,000 to “handle vast numbers of wheelchair bound people” who will be coming to town. “While confrontations cannot be stopped, they can be blunted.” It speaks of how the RTD is “searching for ways to diffuse or ward off demonstrations,” perhaps by pacifying everyone for a few days with a conference on accessible transit [ibid]. “Can we take control by creating a hospitality center for the handicapped?” the memo says. Who can resist such an opportunity. ADAPT is on its way.
ADAPT (439)
The Daily Sparks Tribune April 14, 1989 page 4A [Headline] Push a wheelchair through Sparks by Andrew Barbano In all the heat generated by die wheelchair protests this week at the Sparks Nugget, the central issue has been lost: does every bus in the country need wheelchair lifts? I thought Donna Cline might shed some light on the real reason behind the ruckus. Cline, 30, was injured in a rural Nevada accident. She and Debra Donlevy were driving to Carson City late one night 11 years ago. Their car overturned near Hawthorne. Donna survived the long ride to Reno, Debbie was not so lucky. We buried her in Carson City while Cline lay in Washoe Medical Center. Debbie was my wife's daughter. Donna, who has not walked since, worked her way through broadcast school and became a television reporter. In 1985, while working at KVBC in Las Vegas, she was asked to compete for the Miss Wheelchair Nevada title. She won. And added the Miss Wheelchair America title in 1986. She took the cause of better access for the handicapped all the way to Ronald Reagan in the White House. “I leaned a lesson in it all," she told me this week from Springfield, Missouri, where she is a news co-anchor. "I found out that you'll get some awareness but you may not get what you set out to get.“ Peter Mendoza would probably agree. The unemployed Bay Area police dispatcher was here to attend the protests during the American Public Transit Association convention. He lost his job because of transportation problems, and has been protesting at APTA conventions for the past three years. “I‘m not used to being treated like a criminal,“ Mendoza says. “We're not a bunch of violent radicals. There are children here and people who’ve worked all their lives. We’re not radicals. We just want to make a point." He says that a lot of this week's problems could have been avoided. “In San Francisco, we sat down with APTA and the police and worked out the parameters of a demonstration. We even arranged for the peaceful arrest of those who thought they wanted to do so. We worked out training and helped arrange transportation. The judge sentenced those arrested to the overnight time served. There were no hard feelings. Sparks is 20 years behind the times when it comes to protests." Cline says “protest to increase awareness is wonderful but has anything more actually been accomplished? In the four cities I've live in, the demand (for wheelchair ramps) does not meet the number of buses. If you're going to take that amount of money, you should look at usage." She favors a specialized transportation system such as this area's Citilift. One caller to my radio show did not agree. "Separate is always unequal," he snapped. Mendoza, a member of the Golden Gate Bridge Highway and Transportation District‘s advisory committee on services for persons with disabilities, backs up this argument with numbers. “The Alameda-Contra Costa transit system did a study which showed a $10.84 cost per trip on a ramp-equipped bus. A paratransit system (like Citilift) costs $12.46 a trip." He says that nationally, the paratransit system is more expensive. Citilift figures bear him out. Such service is very specialized and will always cost more. “A bus ramp costs about the same as an air conditioning system, and I consider that a luxury. If you want to get rid of something that costs a lot, get rid of air conditioning." Mendoza feels specialized paratransit systems are good for rural areas, but Metropolitan areas need bus lifts. “Only three percent of the 37,000,000 disabled in this country are working and transportation is the number one reason," he passionately adds. Since I started doing talk shows, I've never had a week where one issue totally dominated as this one has. Many of my phone calls were from wheelchair users. Some Sparks residents feel that Mendoza and his group are just a bunch of out-of-town agitators who should leave. Others have accused the Sparks Police, John Ascuaga and his people of failing to defuse the situation upfront, as was done in San Francisco. Another said Nugget security guards were poorly trained and they have been the main problem. Mendoza's organization, ADAPT, almost seems to be contradicting itself by its actions. ADAPT has made its biggest gains in court and in Congress, not on the protest lines. After Congress passed a law mandating lifts on all buses, APTA got the law watered down to provide for local option. ADAPT sued and won on appeal. The protests this week centered on convincing APTA not to take its appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court. Ironically, a small news item appeared Tuesday noting the “Disability Awareness Festival" starts April 14. Wrong. It started Sunday at the Nugget. Maybe Sparks just needs to promote better understanding. The best suggestion I've heard came from a retired Sparks Teamsters Union worker named Mitch. He suggested a handicapped awareness day where civic leaders work a day in a wheelchair to see what it's like. I like that idea. So does Donna Cline. Any takers? (Andrew Barbano is a Reno-based syndicated columnist. He host a weekday morning news and talk show an Reno AM radio station KOLO 92.) Photo: President Ronald Reagan standing, head slightly tipped to his left. Seated beside him, and coming up to about is waist, is a woman in a wheelchair with conservatively coiffed hair and attire. Both are looking at the camera and smiling. Caption reads: Donna Cline, a former Miss Wheelchair Nevada and Miss Wheelchair America, with former President Ronald Reagan.