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الرئيسية / الألبومات / الكلمات الدلائلية Mike Auberger
+ Diane Coleman 10
US_Capitol_Rotunda_part_2_cap
This is part 2 of the ADAPT Capitol Rotunda protest in support of the Americans with Disabilities Act, ADA. This shows the group preparing for civil disobedience to pressure swift passage of the bill. Over 100 people were arrested at this protest, which gets less attention than the Crawl but was equally intense. The film is open captioned (as are all videos on this museum site).
ADAPT (744)
The Disability Rag July/August, 1992 [This article continues on ADAPT 738, 733,728, 724, 748, 743 and finally 737; however the entire text is included here for easier reading. ] Photo by Tom Olin: A policeman holds a wooden barricade while another tries to pull a protester who is lying on the ground by his pants legs backward and out from under the barricade. The protester is holding onto something above his head. On one side a third policeman seems to be coming over and on the other side a man (Frank Lozano) and his guide dog (Frazier) are coming over. Title: On the barricades With ADAPT by Mary Johnson photos by Tom Olin “I am tired of rules and regulations. And them telling me what you have to do. None of them has worked for me as good as being at home. In nursing homes, they put you on sleeping pills to keep you from getting aggravated with what will occur. “You can’t pay —— you don’t have any money to pay an attendant at night, when you’re on SSI. All of these things they’re constantly cutting. I haven’t been in a nursing home for 15 years — and I don’t plan to go.” It's Saturday night in Chicago. Nearly 300 ADAPT members have gathered in a meeting room in Chicago’s Bismarck hotel, getting ready for the group’s May 1992 assault on the Windy City. People are telling their stories. Many are there because there was a nursing home in their past — or they don’t want one in their future. The next day the group will swoop down on the University of Chicago's commencement exercises. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Secretary Louis Sullivan is speaking, and some in the group can't believe their late-breaking good fortune at getting another shot at hassling the Secretary who has steadfastly refused to meet with them to discuss redirecting Medicaid funds to in-home attendant services. A planned Mother's Day March to a graveyard — to symbolize how this nation kills its mothers in nursing homes — is cancelled. “I was never for that dead stuff anyway," ADAPT organizer Mike Auberger says. The week's events are debated. Somebody wants to know why they see police taking photos of them whenever there's an ADAPT action. There's an attorney available for people who get arrested, the group is told; they‘re given his name, as well as ADAPT organizers to contact if they get arrested. “I’m telling you — and it’s the most important thing I'm gonna say." Auberger warns the group. “have your medications with you if you're going to get arrested. Have ‘em labelled. No pill boxes; bottles. Make sure it has your name on it — nobody else's. Make sure there’s no illegal substances on you; no weapons. ‘Cos this is going to follow us down the road.” As it turned out, Chicago was mild compared to Orlando's confrontations last fall, in which nearly all ADAPT activists were thrown in jail — some in solitary confinement — for the week. In Chicago, only 10 people would be cited and fined in Monday’s confrontation at the HHS regional offices in downtown Chicago, and only 4 police-tagged “leaders” arrested the next day at American Medical Association headquarters; all were released at day’s end. Perhaps the national outrage in the wake of the Rodney King beating acquittal in Los Angeles a few weeks before had made Chicago police, considered to be some of the most brutal, cautious. The University of Chicago graduation turns out to be a beautiful Chicago spring day. Police and Secret Service are allowing ADAPT members into the auditorium without any hassle. Later, though, Jim Parker is asked to leave. He protests loudly as police haul him out a side door: “Why am l the only one being asked to leave?” About that time Tim Carver of Tennessee simply rolls off into the men's room, unnoticed, to wait out the sweep. Several ADAPT members unfurl a large FREE OUR PEOPLE banner over the wall below their seats, off in the “handicapped section" where the Secret Service have relegated them. Big burly Secret Service men with their walkie-talkies run over quickly and reach down to pull it up. Bob Kafka and Allen Haines are as determined that they won’t succeed. A kind of arm wrestling match ensues with Kafka and Haines holding firmly to the banner to keep it hanging over the wall where it forms a backdrop to the stage area where Sullivan will be speaking. The Secret Service have the advantage of leverage; they’re taller. One especially burly guy finally wrests the pole with its banner away from them and with a contemptuous jerk, flings it high into the bleachers behind them. “Clear ‘em out," mutters an all-business police captain. Four cops to a chair seems to be the agreed-on method of removal. Paulette Patterson of Chicago is removed this way. Over on the side, Anita Cameron and Jim Parker, back in and out of his wheelchair, and Frank Lozano, minus dog Frazier, are scooting down the steps on a side tier, trying to make it down to where Sullivan will speak, but they're caught and removed, too. “Get as close to the doors as possible,” says Bob Kafka to the other activists who have now been ejected from the back of the building. With police blocking doors. clots of ADAPT move to every entrance. Well, almost every one. Jean Stewart and Eleanor Smith use Stewart's crutches to pound on the metal doors, trying to create a disturbance inside, as the graduation ceremonies begin. Inside, though, the noise is barely audible. Nancy Moulton of Atlanta is sitting quietly on the ground, leaning on a door, with her guide dog Nan beside her. “Get up,” say a blue shirted Chicago cop. Moulton doesn‘t move. Nan rests her head on Moulton’s leg and rolls her eyes up at the cop towering over them. Now there are 4 Chicago cops and one guy who must be from the Secret Service hanging over Moulton and her dog. “If you don't move, we’ll have to grab you. and the dog will attack,” the cop persists. Still Moulton sits. “If you’re concerned about the dog, move!” the cop barks. Moulton gets up, worried that the cops will hurt Nan. While some block doors, others pass out leaflets to latecomers. The chants of “hey hey, ho. ho, nursing homes have got to go!" change to “We want Sullivan!" The police have barricaded the exit with blue sawhorses that read “police line." A pickup truck from the University's facilities management is unloading yellow university police barricades. A lady inside the back of the auditorium, hearing the faint chanting coming from outside, mutters, “they're not making friends." She‘s with the university. The University of Chicago is so large that commencement is held in two shifts; a morning one and an afternoon one. Sullivan has finished speaking and the crowd is emerging from the pavilion. They walk down the long fence of police barricades, while ADAPT chants and hands them leaflets: “Wanted: Sullivan. For crimes against disabled people." Inset picture: Beefy policeman with his cap down over his nose leaning forward. Caption: “If you care about your dog, move!” Article continues: It's lunch. ADAPT always feeds its activists. Today it‘s Burger King. Attendants and other walkies pass out cokes and burgers. Nan, Moulton’s dog, gets some much welcomed ice cubes from the big bag under the tree, put into the little folding plastic water bowl Moulton carries with her. A new crowd is coming to the arena. They, too, get leaflets and chants. Tim Craven has been ejected when police found him inside, but not before he and the other two who had hidden themselves in the press box get off a few good chants in Sullivan’s direction. A reporter for Habilitation, a disability magazine out of Seattle, has marched up to Sullivan, she reports, and asked him the questions ADAPT has so long wanted to ask him. To every single question, she says, he has responded, “It's a very nice day." Most of the students don‘t want to talk to a reporter. They have no comment. Some think that it‘s wrong of ADAPT to spoil their special day. Others think the group has a right to make itself heard — just not here, not now. One woman who has read the flyers says that "they don‘t want to be prisoners in nursing homes." A man, who hasn‘t read one, says he doesn’t know what they're protesting about but he thinks they have a right to do it. His daughter is graduating today —— with a degree in special education. Each ADAPT contingent blocking an entrance has its contingent of cops. The two `groups` joke with each other and pass the time in small talk. It's a lot like a chess game, says Haines; this trying to puzzle out where Sullivan‘s going to exit. Just about the time it occurs to several of the organizers who have been trying to psych out from which exit Sullivan will be spirited away that the one exit that has no guards on it is the parking lot entrance, a police car comes screaming down the street, makes an abrupt U-turn, and, at that moment, Sullivan's car, driven by Secret Service, shoots out of the entrance. Several ADAPT wheelers are on his tail in a flash, but it's too late. Sullivan again escapes— but the point, say the activists, has been well made to the over 10,000 people who have attended. Thousands of flyers have been passed out. PHOTO by Tom Olin: Inside a cavernous arena filled with people, two plain clothes police or Secret Service men have an ADAPT person (Bob Kafka) by the arms and are trying to lift him. He is sitting on the steps of an aisle leaning forward. To their right a young man in a button up shirt and jeans, a graduate, looks down at them. Caption reads: Getting to see Sullivan. Not. ADAPT makes no effort to block the streets surrounding the Pavilion. Monday‘s a different story. By 11am, both State and Adams Streets are blocked. Downtown Chicago is taking the flyers as fast as they’re being passed out. Many of them are surprisingly in agreement with ADAPT’s call for 25% of the current Medicaid money to be redirected to in-home services. One businessman engages Bob Kafka in a long and intense discussion over the merits of attendant services. He has buddies who were in Viemam, he says, and want the same thing Kafka does. He gives Kafka his card. Many other people are giving ADAPT members their cards, too; they are interested in the issue. Nobody, they say, has brought it up before. Certainly not the Chicago Tribune, which, instead of covering the baccalaureate brouhaha, runs a feature story on a college camp-out. “What I‘m looking for is a reasonable atmosphere to address the issues." Delilah Brummet Flaum, HHS’s Region V Director, would have to shout to make herself heard over downtown Chicago traffic and hundreds of milling demonstrators. And she‘s not shouting. She has come down, along with Chester Stroyny. Regional Director of the HealthCare Financing Administration and HCFA official David DuPre. in response to ADAPT demands. They want to meet with “officials”; they’ve blockaded the Region V HHS headquarters and aren‘t letting anyone in or out — unless they're willing to climb and crawl over protesters. About 20 activists have gotten all the way up to the HHS offices on the 15th floor, and have a bunch of police in there with them. It’s lunchtime by the time Flaum, Stroyny and DuPre are trotted out to Karen Tamley, Bob Kafka and Teresa Monroe and the others in the middle of Adams Street. ADAPT wants them to call Sullivan, to make him come back to Chicago and meet with them. Flaum can’t do that. “I am willing to do anything else you want us to do. to do try to get this resolved,” she’s saying. But she wants the group to be "more reasonable." She tells Tamley that she is “well aware" of ADAPT’s concerns, and that “the Bush Administration is working on non-institutional care options." Anna Stonum asks more questions. People in the crowd are starting to yell that they can’t hear. Flaum is telling Kafka that “shutting down a building“ is not the way to get a meeting with Sullivan. Kafka responds that they‘ve sent at least four letters to Sullivan and he's never responded to a single one. “You know as well as I do that the Secretary sets the tone for the discussion,“ Kafka lectures her. Kafka and DuPre engage in a debate about facts and figures. They can't trip Kafka up; he seems to know as much if not more about the issue than these folks do. At times the officials even seem to agree with him. Not, however, when he charges that “nothing the Secretary has said or done" changes anything “because he's in the pocket of the nursing home industry." “We disagree with that," say all three officials simultaneously. “We do favor the de-institutionalization model." “The damn Secretary has not said one thing — ever - has not even said the word ‘attendant services’ publicly," Kafka yells, and swears that ADAPT will continue to hold the building. “This is not being positive," says Flaum. “These are peoples' lives you’re talking about.” Kafka retorts. Photo Inset: The head of Bob Kafka, looking very intense, below the words "The damn Secretary has never even said the word 'attendant services' publicly." Article continues: “You don’t know what it’s like,” Monroe shouts at the officials when Kafka's done. “I want to talk to Sullivan. You get him here. He has no idea. Don't tell me Sullivan knows.” Monroe’s point, which she makes to Flaum, is that the money should go directly to the disabled person “because no person knows better what they need than the disabled person. Let us have our dignity.” She argues with Stroyny over nursing home inspections. Mark Johnson accuses Sullivan of “being in the pocket of the nursing homes.“ And meetings like this, he charges, aren’t worth a thing “unless there’s a commitment." The group, hearing Johnson, takes the cue: “We want a commitment!" One of the workers in the HHS office has come out for lunch and now finds she cannot get back in over the demonstrators. Still, she thinks what they're doing is “positive.” She’s a volunteer in a nursing home herself, she says, “And I know they’re the pits. People who don't frequent them don't know. These people who are walking around here” — she gestures to lunch-hour Chicagoans moving up and down the street-- “they could become victims of nursing homes, too. I look at these people here" —— and now she means ADAPT — “and I know I wouldn’t want to be jailed up in a nursing home." But then, she believes in protesting, she says. “I think protests are fine. I'm in tune with them. I was with Martin Luther King back in the 60s." she says. “I was in jail with Dr. King. I was 14 years old. That was just what you did; you went to jail. Some of our young people don't understand. “This is how to explain it,” she continues, warming to her subject. “These people want to get heard. We couldn’t get heard in Birmingham, either. That‘s why we marched on Washington." She won’t identify herself, though, but will only say she’s a spectator. But she works upstairs in the HHS office, she says. “And they got time to listen to that TV stuff — people come in talking about that, they make a big deal about the stuff they see on TV. And they got these people out here and they don‘t want to pay attention. When I was upstairs, they were callin’ ‘em ‘beasts’ and “vultures.” It is a measure of the erosion of belief in the system that has become the trademark of ADAPT that, when an EMS ambulance pulls up to the door and the word goes out that police are bringing down a man who’s had a heart attack, the thought passes among the group that this is yet another ploy. They think the stretcher rolled into the lobby and up on the elevator may be a ruse to make them move away from the door, which they nonetheless do, not wanting it to be said that they cared not for another disabled person who might be in danger. And when the man is brought down on the stretcher, there is more speculation: wasn’t he one of the officials out here earlier? Did the confrontation and excitement give him a heart attack? Is he faking? Is it really a medical emergency, or just :1 move to get someone out of the building who has an important meeting to attend and doesn't want it stopped by cripples? No one remembers the man in the stretcher more than a few minutes after the ambulance pulls away, lights rotating, into the Chicago traffic. Jane Garza from El Hogar del Nino is with the protesters. blocking a door by leaning against it. She’s part of the protest. she says: disabled herself, though she knows she doesn’t look it. She works in early childhood education. Some of the signs protesters are carrying were made by the children at her center, she says. “It's a way to bring them into it," she points out. The parents of the disabled kids at the center “are all reasonable people,” she says. “So they understand my being at an activity like this." If she gets arrested, she says, she has an understanding with her agency: they will bail her out. She’s been arrested with ADAPT before. she says; that was in Montreal. She’s been with ADAPT protests in Washington — the one to get the ADA passed; and one in St. Louis. “No one wants to see their child in a nursing home. People can really relate to that." She says the group at her door has been talking to passersby all day about the issue. “I was on the verge of going into a nursing home myself, back in ’82.” says this woman who doesn’t look disabled. When she had her aneurism and was in rehabilitation, she says, the Illinois Department of Rehabilitation Services gave her money with which she was able to pay two people — one for the morning, and one for the evening. “I just needed help getting up and then getting to bed. I was so weak. I just needed minimal assistance, somebody there to help me get dressed. But without that program. they would have put me in a nursing home.” Illinois Gov. Jim Edgar’s budget cuts have forced the Department of Rehabilitation Services to extend a freeze on intakes in that program through the end of 1993. and Edgar, Chicago ADAPT charges, is trying to eliminate a yearly cost-of-living adjustment for attendants. "After I got stronger, I was able to manage on my own. But look at how many people are in my shoes!” she says. “I worked; I had money. I was a social worker back then: one who had to apply for public aid just so I could get assistance." Insert picture: A person (possibly Lonnie Smith) with his head to one side and below the words “We want them to see what it’s like for us.” Article continues... The philosophy and tactic of doorblocking: Let people go in and out, if they’re willing to climb over you and your chair to do it. Arrest is not the objective here; inconveniencing people is. “We want them to see what it's like for us.” says one who has engaged in many door blockings. Photo by Tom Olin: A policeman stands in the middle of the street legs braced in a wide stance and arms streched out. He is holding a man with a cane (Gary Bosworth) with one hand and with the other hand and foot trying to hold back a man (Bob Kafka) in a manual wheelchair who is bent forward pushing. Other police officers are standing in the street, a supervisor is watching, as is a TV cameraman. Other protesters are partially visible at the edges of the scene. Chicago police have a black and white checkered band around their hats that is very distinctive. Article continues- Tuesday morning's Chicago Tribune, instead of covering ADAPT's HHS confrontation. reports on stepped-up security measures at the downtown State of Illinois building where. the Tribune reports, in error, ADAPT was "supposed" to be demonstrating Monday. ADAPT, it says, changed its mind. In fact, ADAPT planned to hit state offices on Wednesday. Speculation abounds as to who fed the paper the false information, the effect of which is to make ADAPT look disorganized. It later becomes apparent that state officials have had a hand in it. There is nothing in the Tribune about the people who stopped along State Street and asked questions, about Flaum, about any of it. The Sun-Times carries a photo inside. At the comer of State and Grant, a baby-blue police wrecker, the same blue as the cars, as the barricades, has blocked a curb ramp. ADAPT has blocked four intersections adjacent to the American Medical Association. Wheelchairs are stretched across 16 streets. At the intersection of Wabash and Grand, in the back, Paulette Patterson is hassling the policemen, mouthing off and chasing them with her motorized chair. It seems she is trying to get arrested. The police are being friendly enough. It won't be until noon that things will get rough. The cops will barricade the main entrances to the glass-walled fortress: many ADAPT members will take that as their cue to launch themselves out of their wheelchairs onto the high-curbed stoop around the building, crawling up to bang and hammer on the wooden barricades. A few find satisfaction in pounding on the glass walls. This will happen, though, only after the confrontation — the confrontation that resulted in Jerry Eubanks of Chicago being dropped from his wheelchair: picked up by his neck, it seems to other protesters, who holler for an “Ambulance! Now!”; the confrontation that causes Patterson to roll from her wheelchair and shriek at the top of her lungs, kicking her legs wildly as police try to pick her up. The police back off; when they come at her again, her screams again drive them back. Finally, Patterson is left alone, and, once more in her wheelchair, rolls off to the side, where she admits slyly and with her trademark smile that she enjoys discomfiting police. “They don't wanna mess with me," she says proudly. Suddenly they are all there again, surging at the entrance, trying to get up the high curb. Stephanie Thomas and Diane Coleman and others are wedging themselves in next to the Chicago Transit Authority paratransit vehicles that are a sure sign of arrests: it's the only way police can haul off a wheelchair to the hoosegow. Allen Leegant is diving under a barricade trying to get up to the entrance. Chris Hronis and Arthur Campbell are trying to follow; they are caught by police. Campbell is carried, spread-eagle, by four cops, directly to a CT A van. Cameras are everywhere; TV crews have materialized out of nowhere. Campbell has been arrested. Mike Auberger has been arrested. Campbell and Auberger are each put into his own van. The police have their eye on Mike Ervin. When you catch a snatch of cop-to-cop talk, you learn they're trying to pick off those they figure to be the leaders. “What the cops never understand is why the demonstration continues after they’ve hauled off the folks they think are leaders," says someone who is blocking a street. “They can’t figure out that arresting leaders doesn’t work; that as soon as they arrest someone, somebody else just moves in." Susan Nussbaum, blocking a side door, answers questions about whether the movement will ever see violence. “There’s always the potential for violence," she is saying. “But it would be good if that could be understood in the context of a larger issue. “I am not in favor of getting my head beaten in." At 3:15 the building starts to empty out. ADAPT has managed to block all the exits, so AMA workers and officials alike are subjected to a gauntlet of taunts as they trot, under tight police protection, down the ramp to the alley and across to the parking garage. The taunts seem mostly to be of the “AMA Shame On You” variety. When ADAPT members arrived at AMA headquarters in the morning, they found tables set up with water coolers and cups of refreshing water awaiting them. Later, the AMA‘s Department of Geriatric Health would confirm for a reporter that the AMA had done this so the disabled people wouldn't get overheated and get sick. Many protesters were wary of the water. Some suspected it had been spiked with Valium: others thought it a ploy to get them to have to pee later on, adding to their discomfort and hopefully ending the demonstration early. Much of the water was left untouched. Water was also running through hoses into the sprinkling system of the AMA‘s lawns. This had the added effect of keeping protesters off the grassy knolls fronting the building. Shortly after ADAPT arrived, one demonstrator had parked his chair on the hose while others moved across the area to block doors. Later, the water was simply turned off. Insert picture: A head and shoulders picture of a protester chanting, with the words "AMA: Shame on you!" "People are dying shame on you!" Article continues- The AMA’s flak, Arnold Collins, was standing around with the TV and radio reporters most of the day. The AMA had issued a statement insisting it “supports the home care objectives of ADAPT." Dr. Joanne Schwartzberg, Director of the AMA's Department of Geriatric Health, said in the news release that a meeting the previous Thursday with ADAPT had been “productive” and that the two `groups` had “considerable common ground.” Campbell, who attended the meeting, had a different analysis. He said he believed Schwartzberg truly had no understanding what ADAPT wanted; that some of their ideas had been totally inconceivable to her. Schwartzberg said ADAPT was the first group she had ever met with and felt “hostility.” “It was a great shock," she said. “I always thought of myself as being a great advocate. But I wasn’t an advocate enough for them." Schwartzberg said that ADAPT didn’t understand that there were “really frail people in nursing homes — a kind of frailty that these disabled don’t have. “I was really scared that the demonstrators might get harmed, the way they throw themselves out of their chairs.” she went on. “They’re very courageous; I think they're a little reckless. Luckily, nobody’s gotten seriously hurt." “Do you think she really believes the things she says, or do you think it’s just a pose?” a filmmaker wondered. The AMA had issued “a guideline for medical management of homecare patients," she said, and they were putting on 8 seminars for doctors “in managing home care.” She knew ADAPT wanted AMA members to divest themselves of their financial interest in nursing homes and cut nursing home admissions. But the AMA couldn‘t do that, she explained patiently. “We are a voluntary body. not a regulatory body." “They couldn't understand why we couldn‘t do more." she said. The Chicago Tribune was still concerned about the State of lllinois building. Every day Tribune stories had chronicled the increasing security at the site. On Tuesday, Paulette Patterson and another disabled woman filed suit in U.S. District Court alleging denial of access due to increased security. Though a temporary restraining order was not granted, Patterson’s attorney, Matthew Cohen, said filing the suit had had the desired effect. The Tribune covered the suit. Photos by Tom Olin: 1) Two protesters (Spitfire and Jimmi Schrode) in the march raise the power fist to woman leaning out of a second floor window yelling and giving them the thumbs up. Below on the sidewalk most people are just walking by but one older man looks on. Spitfire is wearing her combat helmet. 2) A line of ADAPT protesters face a set of barricades on the other side of which are a line of policemen holding the barricades with both hands. Midway down the line of protesters, a man in a wheelchair (Danny Saenz) is turned toward the camera and another protester (Chris Hronis). 3) Close up of a man in a wheelchair (Rene Luna) who sits in front of an almost life sized portrait of IL Governor Edgar. Rene is holding a poster that reads "nursing home industry owns Edgar." Article continues- Finally, on Wednesday, ADAPT obliged the Tribune and state officials by staging a protest at the building, drawing attention to stale policies that were cutting people off from attendant services in Illinois. On Thursday. the Tribune ran a long story on ADAPT. Calling them "a group of vociferous activists savvy in street action." It quoted a miffed Chicago official who refused to be named saying that "one of the strongest points in their civil disobedience is making themselves look as pathetic as possible.“ “The group's history is rife with attention-grabbing acts of protest." said the Tribune. which compared them to ACT-UP and Earth First! protest `groups`. "Though some may question their tactics. none can doubt they have impact.“ said the Tribune. the end
ADAPT (713)
The Guardian, May 27,1992 Photo by Tom Olin: A disabled man dressed all in white (Tim Craven) lies on his back to crawl under a police barricade. Beside him a woman (Barbara Bounds) in a wheelchair leans toward him as if to support and protect him. She is facing the barricade and has a sign taped to the back of her chair that says "People Before Profits." Two police men lean over the barricade toward Tim and another sticks his arm in between them. Behind them are even more officers. On the near side of the barricade yet another officer stands, bending almost all the way forward toward Tim on the ground. Caption reads: Protesters in Chicago got our of their wheelchairs and lay down in front of the barricades, forcing employees to walk over them. Disabled militants bring hope to health reform By Mary Johnson Chicago-Hundreds of members and supporters of ADAPT (American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today) took to the streets here May 10-13 to continue their fight for in-home attendant services and to move the national health-Cate debate into the rights arena. The group is aiming to force the American Medical Association—whose headquarters are here—and the American Health Care Association, the nursing home lobby, to replace “home care" with "attendant services“ which consumers control “in the location and manner of our choice,“ says ADAPT. ADAPT, which under the name American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation won the national fight for wheelchair lifts on buses, intend their street protests as the “flashpoint," says founder Wade Blank, for national health care reform. There is nothing medical about assistance to bathe, eat or dress, these activists charge. Target: Louis Sullivan Learning that Health and Human Services Secretary Louis Sullivan would be speaking at University of Chicago commencements on May 10, the 250-strong ADAPT contingent cancelled a Mother‘s Day march and stormed into the university‘s pavilion, planning to disrupt Sullivan's speech. Police and Secret Service agents promptly ejected them, but the group spent the afternoon handing leaflets to graduates‘ families. Sullivan has been a perennial ADAPT target for his refusal to meet with them to discuss Medicaid policy on nursing homes. The next day, ADAPT surrounded the HHS regional offices in downtown Chicago, managing to get up to 15th-floor offices before being blocked by police. Others in the group cordoned off exits, forcing building employees to climb over them, and at one point succeeded in getting department officials into the street to listen to the group‘s demands. Ten protesters were cited and released. On May 12, ADAPT moved to AMA headquarters, blocking adjacent streets and crawling up to bang on office windows. Police barricaded the doors, but protesters got our of their wheelchairs and piled themselves at barricades, forcing AMA employees to step over them when their offices shut down early. Police moved to arrest four people they believed to be in command. The four included Mike Auberger of Denver and Arthur Campbell of Louisville, Ky., who were released later in the day. Garnering media attention Though ADAPT planned to press state targets only on May 13, the state barricaded its downtown State of Illinois Building on the two days before. Guards locked wheelchair access doors and forced wheelchair users to submit to police escort on elevators. On May 12, Chicago ADAPT member Paulette Patterson sued the state over discriminatory denial of access. Though District judge Milton Shadur failed to grant a requested temporary restraining order, Patterson’s attorney, Matthew Cohen, said he had “no doubt the suit had an effect.” On May 13, ADAPT took over the building while city police squabbled with state police over jurisdiction and mostly kept their hands off protesters. Longtime Chicago activists noted ADAPT‘s success in garnering media attention. Chicago Lawyers Guild member Ora Schub said ADAPT‘s protests got more coverage than Gulf war demonstrations in the city — even when antiwar protesters shut down Lake Shore Drive. There seems little question ADAPT has begun to have an impact beyond disability rights. As one of the only groups to take the health reform issue into the streets, ADAPT, says Blank, sees its role “as focusing the debate on a bigger political issue” within health-care reform: services as a legal right. “What the disability rights movement can do is humanize society,” he says. Tennessee ADAPT recently forced the hospital power structure there to accept a state financing fee that will fully fund Medicaid (see sidebar). Lawyer Gordon Bonnyman, who was involved in the Tennessee campaign, remembers a “poverty advocate friend" sending him a clipping about an ADAPT protest in Orlando, Fla., in 1990, when the group first took on the American Health Care Association over the attendant services issue. He and his friend “were despairing about health reform," he said, “asking ourselves when the people who were really affected were going to begin to influence the discussion. "l said, ‘l just don‘t see that ever happening until people are willing to stage some direct actions,‘ " Bonnyman recalls. “Then she sent me that clipping from ADAPT's Orlando action and she said, ‘Here are the folks who could do that.'" “My response at that time was, ‘That’s nice, but how many people is that?‘ I now think: ‘Enough.' ADAPT really does have the ability to have an impact nationally on health care issues-far beyond their own issue of personal attendant services." The group plans similar actions in San Francisco this fall. Second, sidebar, article inserted on this page: Saving Medicaid in Tenn Six people in wheelchairs moved swiftly a cross across the drive-way of the Tennessee Health Care Association in Nashville on March 31. Chaining themselves together, the small band waited for members of the Tennessee Hospital Association to come out of their meeting. It was a classic ADAPT action. This time ADAPT was leading a coalition of health care reformers that would force the state‘s powerful hospital lobby to drop its opposition to a state licensing fee intended to prevent a $1.1 billion loss in federal Medicaid funds. Tennessee pioneered the concept of leveraging matching federal Medicaid funds by levying a state financing fee against hospitals that took Medicaid patients. With its 70-30 match, the state took the $300 million collected from participating hospitals to obtain another $700 million in federal matching funds. With that tactic, Tennessee was fully funding its Medicaid program and feeling no financial crisis. By 1991 it was in use in 37 states, with many reporting similar success. The federal government, alarmed at having to pay out increased Medicaid funds to stares that used this method, devised a plan to derail it. A little-publicized 1991 law made such licensing fees illegal unless levied against all hospitals equally. It counted on opposition from hospitals that took no Medicaid patients (and therefore had no reason to agree to the fees) to fight state passage of licensing fee bills. That opposition was swift in coming in Tennessee. The state is home to Hospital Corporation of America and HealthTrust, two of the nation's largest hospital chains, and numerous other hospitals. The Tennessee Hospital Association, of which Hospital Corporation of America is a powerful member, opposed the fee. A state bill to extend the fee to all hospitals was virtually dead, said Tony Garr, head of the Tennessee Health Care Campaign, until ADAPT of Tennessee, led by organizer Diane Coleman, got involved. “The only way we could bring attention to the issue was to hit the streets,” said Garr. “ADAPT played a very important role" in helping other groups in the Tennessee Health Care Campaign “move to direct action,” said Gordon Bonnyman, a lawyer who has worked with Medicaid issues in Tennessee. Beginning in January, Coleman and Tennessee ADAPT members staged weekly actions, targeting the large hospitals as villains who were destroying the state’s Medicaid program. The first week a group of nearly 200 people, headed by ADAPT, marched to the Hospital Association's offices. The next week the group staged a protest in front of Baptist Hospital, which opposed the fee. The group hung a sign asking “Are you Christian?" on the hospital administrator's portrait. The group‘s fifth action targeted Thomas Frist, who heads Hospital Corporation of America. “We had a small casket, with dollar bills draped over it, and a sign that read, “Thomas Frist, how many must die for your $1.235 million in annual cash compensation?” said Coleman. The protests had the desired effect. Frist, reportedly upset by the negative publicity, capitulated the day the group surged on Health Care Association headquarters with the cross and withdrew his corp0ration’s opposition to the fee—reportedly urging legislators to vote swiftly to pass the law to avoid more unfavorable publicity. “There have been Medicaid cuts for the last 15 years in this country, and they have gone mostly unreported," said Bonnyman. “ADAPT galvanized people. Without them, the whole thing would have gone down the toilet." M.J.
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New York Times, National, Thursday October 10.1991 Title: Militant Advocates for Disabled Revel in Their Roles as Agitators by Steven A. Holmes, special to the New York Times [compare with ADAPT 673] Boxed text: Forcefully trying to change images of the nation’s disabled. ORLANDO, Fla., Oct. 6 — The melee‘ at a meeting of nursing home representatives here was, in many ways, a typical for the demonstrators: After smashing their wheelchairs into police barricades and blocking a hotel entrance, 73 of them were arrested, creatmg front page headlines and a successful day's work for Adapt, the militant advocacy group for the disabled. The aim of the action today at the Peabody Hotel in this resort city was to focus attention on the organization's call to divert Federal money from nursing homes to a form of in-home care. But the means the group uses, like Sunday's chaotic demonstration, have often exasperated its allies as much as its adversaries. But even those who criticize Adapt acknowledge that the searing images of people with physical limitations engaging in civil disobedience often succeed in shattering stereotypes of how meek and pliant “cripples” are supposed to act, stereotypes often held by many disabled people themselves. “Adapt is about the issue," said Mary Johnson, editor of the Disability Rag, a weekly magazine that is devoted to disability issues. “But it is also about showing you that though you are disabled you have power already. For people who feel they don't have any power, who are often dependent, that is such a liberation." The Denver-based group's style has drawn its share of criticism from other advocates for the disabled. These critics note that the group played little part in the negotiations that led to the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act and that their methods had often antagonized allies in the stniggle. “I think they do get attention," said a Washington-based disabled advocate who asked not to be identified. “But that's true when they are playing to an audience that is not politically sawy. For people out in Middle America, sitting in front of the TV, seeing people in wheelchairs demonstrating is something new. But to folks in Washington who are used to sit-ins, it's passe." [Subheading] An Effective Weapon But leaders of Adapt, which originally stood for Americans Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation, say it is `groups` like theirs that push others to press forcefully ior expanded rights for the disabled. “l think that even for the people with disabilities who don't participate directly in Adapt, we give them heart," said Diane Coleman, an Adapt organizer from Tennessee. And even those who sometimes criticize Adapt acknowledge that it is an eiiective weapon. lt is a role Adapt readily takes on. "We make all the other `groups` seem real rational," said Mike Auberger, one of Adapt’s founders. The group was begun in I983 in Denver by people who worked to persuade the city to make all local buses accessible to people in wheelchairs. Over the next few years they held protests over the issue of accessible public transportation in Cincinnati, St. Louis, Phoenix; Detroit and Atlanta. In addition to picketing, the protesters often would lock their wheelchairs together in front of city buses or chain themselves to a bus’s bumper. Early on, Adapt made a prime target the American Public Transit Association, a group representing mass transit systems. The protesters disrupted meetings and harassed officials of the group. “You have to have a bad guy in political organizing, somebody you can go after," said Mr. Auberger. These days that role is filled by the nursing home industry and Louis W. Sullivan, Secretary of Health and Human Services. After Congress passed the Americans with Disabilities Act last year, requiring that all new buses be equipped with hydraulic lifts for people in wheelchairs, Adapt began protesting for Federal subsidies for personal attendants, individuals hired by those with physical impairments to help them with basic everyday needs. Adapt wants 25 percent of the more than $20 billion paid to nursing home operators under the Medicaid program to be diverted from nursing homes to help the disabled pay for personal attendants. Though many mainstream proponents of help for the disabled have endorsed the goal of government subsidies for attendants, the diversion of funds sought by Adapt is opposed by the American Health Care Association, the trade group for nursing homes, and by the Bush Administration. As a result, Adapt has spent the last few months harassing the nursing home association and “Mr. Sullivan. This spring they blocked his car during a visit to Chicago and heckled him in a speech in Washington. in August, a handful of Adapt members rolled their wheelchairs along side Mr. Sullivan and harangued him as he took part in a fitness walk on Martha's Vineyard. Whether such methods will achieve Adapt‘s stated goals is uncertain. But leaders of the group say that when they first began to put pressure on the public transportation industry, no one felt their methods would bear fruit. "You have to give complete and utter credit for that to Adapt," said Evan Kemp, Jr., the head of e Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.
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Times Herald Record, Friday October 11, 1991 p. 36 Title: Heros for the handicapped? Militant group for disabled revels in its role of agitator The New York Times [compare with ADAPT 674 - the NYT clipping] ORLANDO. Fla. — The melee at a meeting of nursing home representatives here was in many ways a typical demonstration by members of Adapt. After smashing their wheelchairs into police barricades and blocking a hotel entrance, 73 members were arrested, creating front page headlines and a successful day’s work for the militant advocacy group for the disabled. The aim of the action last Sunday at the Peabody Hotel in this resort city was to locus attention on the organization's call to divert federal funds from nursing homes in a form of in-home care. But the means the group uses, like Sunday’s chaotic demonstration, has exasperated its allies often as much its adversaries. But even those who criticize Adapt acknowledge that the searing image of people with physical limitations engaging in civil disobedience often succeed in shattering stereo-types of how meek and pliant "cripples" are supposed to act - stereotypes often held by many disabled people themselves. “Adapt is about the issue," said Mary Johnson, editor of the Disability Rag, a weekly magazine that is devoted to disability issues. "But it is also about showing you that though you are disabled you have power already. For people who feel they don't have any power, who are often dependent, that is such a liberation." [Subheading] Antagonizing allies The Denver-based group’s style has drawn its share of criticism from other advocates for the disabled. These critics note that the group played little part in the negotiations thai led to the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act and that their methods have often antagonized allies in the struggle. “l think they do get attention," said a Washington-based disabled advocate who asked not to be identified. "But that‘s true when they are playing to an audience that is not politically savy. For people out in Middle America, sitting in front of the TV, seeing people in wheelchairs demonstrating is something new. But to folks in Washington who are used to sit-ins, it's passe." Leaders of Adapt, which originally stood for Americans Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation, say it is `groups` like theirs that push others to press forcefully for expanded rights for the disabled. “I think that even for the people with disabilities who don't participate directly in Adapt, we give them heart," said Diane Coleman, an Adapt organizer from Tennessee. And even those who sometimes criticize Adapt acknowledge that it is an effective weapon. It is a role Adapt readily takes on. “We make all the other `groups` seem real rational," said Mike Auberger, one of Adapt's founders and advocate who helped persuade the city to make all local buses accessible to people in wheelchairs. [Subheading] Drastic means to a questionable end Over the next few years they held protests over the issue of accessible public transportation in Cincinnati, ST Louis, Phoenix, Detroit and Atlanta. In addition to picketing, the protesters often would lock their wheelchairs together in front of city buses or chain themselves to a bus's bumper. Early on, Adapt made a prime target the American Public Transit Association, a group representing mass transit systems. The disabled advocates disrupted meetings and harassed officials of the group. "You have to have a bad guy in political organizing, somebody you can go after," said Auberger. These days that role is filled by the nursing home industry and Louis W. Sullivan, secretary of Health and Human Services. After Congress passed the Americans with Disabilities Act last year, requiring that all new buses be equipped with hydraulic lifts for people in wheelchairs, Adapt began protesting for federal subsidies for personal attendants, individuals hired by those with physical impairments to help them with basic everyday needs. Adapt wants 25 percent of the more than $20 billion paid to nursing home operators under the Medicaid program to he diverted from nursing homes to help the disabled pay for personal attendants. Though many mainstream advocates for the disabled have endorsed the goal of government subsidies for attendants, the diversion of funds sought by Adapt is opposed by the American Health Care Association, the trade group for nursing homes, and by the Bush administration. As a result, Adapt has spent the last few months harassing the nursing home association and Sullivan. This spring they blocked his car during a visit to Chicago and heckled him during a speech in Washington. in August, a handful of Adapt members rolled their wheelchairs along side Sullivan and haranged him as he participated in a fitness walk on Martha's Vineyard. Whether such methods will achieve Adapt’s stated goals is uncertain. But leaders of the group say that when they first began to put pressure on the public transportation industry, no one felt their methods would bear fruit. "You have to give complete and utter credit for that to Adapt," said Evan Kemp. Jr., the head at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.
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Photo: A man [Mike Auberger] in a motorized wheelchair in blue ADAPT t-shirt and jeans, sits in the middle of a group of other people in wheelchairs. From left to right, they are unknown man with back to camera, woman in pink jacket and red skirt [Diane Coleman], man [Joe Carle] in dark sunglasses and sleeveless jacket, and man [Jim Parker] in white Bart Simpson t-shirt. Mike is holding a clipboard on his lap and reading something from it.
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Left to right, Mike Auberger, Diane Coleman, Rick James and 2 other people block the side entrance to the Health and Human Services offices on Independence Ave. Mike's neck is kryptonite locked to the doors. Diane has a poster that reads "Stop the money to the nursing home lobby!" Behind Rick's head is a very large access symbol sign.
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Wednesday, APRIL 12 1989 RENO GAZETTE-JOURNAL Photo by Tom Spitz/Gazette-Journal : A somewhat frail looking man, Randy Blatz, in a large wheelchair sits sideways looking at the camera. A sign is taped to the side of his chair; it reads "WE WILL RIDE." His legs are extended out in front of him and are covered by a blanket. Behind him another wheelchair protester looks at the camera with his arm up shading his face and his view. Behind them are other protesters in a line, pretty much filling the picture. Caption reads: BACKER: Randy Blatz of Hayward, Calif, shows support for his locked-up comrades Tuesday outside the Washoe jail. [Headline] Disabled protesters maintain hunger strike [Subheading] Jailed demonstrators getting care, sheriff says By Susan Voyles/Gazzette-Journal A hunger strike in the Washoe County jail by 22 handicapped prisoners — arrested for obstructing sidewalks while protesting a public Transit meeting in Sparks -— continued Tuesday night, although nine demonstrators broke their fast. Leaders of the American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT) group encouraged jailed protesters to break their fast after Washoe County Sheriff Vince Swinney early Tuesday afternoon promised the inmates more nurses, if needed, and more medical supplies. But Lt. Rod Williams said the hunger strike wasn't over medical treatment. "They're protesting the fact they're here,“ he said, “not the conditions in the jail." The hunger strike began Monday night after 25 people were arrested and jailed in a demonstration against public transit officials meeting at John Ascuaga's Nugget. The meeting concludes today. Five others have been in jail since Sunday night, when ADAPT began a planned four-day protest. They're here to protest the western regional meeting of the American Public Transit Association, which is fighting ADAPT's legal efforts to require all federally funded transit systems to buy buses equipped with wheelchair lifts. Swinney said one female prisoner vowed to continue her fast even though she was warned by a doctor that she'll ultimately go into seizures. Another woman, Diane Coleman of Los Angeles, was released from Washoe Medical Center Tuesday morning after being given liquids intravenously for dehydration. She was taken to the hospital about 3 a.m. Tuesday when she began vomiting. Mike Auberger, organizer of the Denver based group, and Pat Gilbert, his Reno attorney, met with Swinney early Tuesday afternoon to discuss jailed ADAPT members complaints. "People in charge are now in the process of trying to respond to the situation, which they've never been in before," Auberger said at a news conference outside the jail. “It's a lot more positive than it was two hours ago." Swinney said the jail has put 11 nurses to work, nine more than usual. And more nurses and a doctor will be brought in if needed, he said. But he admitted the jail did not have enough medical supplies, such as catheter drainage bags, on hand and had to order more. Normally, the jail sees only about six handicapped prisoners a year. Sparks Municipal Judge Don Gladstone defended the sentences handed down to the protesters. Of the 30 in jail, the majority were sentenced to three days for obstructing sidewalks, fire entrances or a police officer, and given an average fine of $580. On Sunday, only five of 49 people arrested went to jail. Those five pleaded innocent and will have their trials Monday. Gladstone said he warned ADAPT members he'd get tougher on them. "Clearly, everyone was put on notice," he said. "We're not following their rules" Auberger, who was also arrested but paid a fine to get out of jail Monday night, was outraged so many of his people were arrested. "I have been in many cities where I have done civil disobedience and I wasn't arrested," he said. "Maybe it's the politics of Sparks that the city has to respond to what the Nugget wants. it's real clear (Gladstone) was being forced to do what he did." “They don't toss people in jail for blocking sidewalks in most cities," complained Pete Mendoza of Marin County, Calif. "They were researching ordinances to arrest us.“ Gladstone who said he supports the rights the handicapped are seeking, said he is simply doing his job and the demonstrators were amply warned. Among the 50 or so protesters outside the jail Tuesday was Beverly Furnice of Denver, with a thick, fresh bandage around one of her twisted legs. She claims her leg was broken Sunday night when a security guard tried to move her out of a doorway. She was treated at Sparks Family Hospital, but officials would not confirm that her leg was broken. She was arrested after the incident, and said she sat in Sparks Municipal Court for five hours before she was released with a verbal warning. Nugget spokesman Parley Johnson said he's not sure what happened to Furnice. "There was a lot of shoving and pushing going on," he said "If it did happen, I'm very sorry about it." Gladstone said he doubted she broke her leg. He said he and his staff held arraignments until midnight Sunday and were far more inconvenienced than Furnice or anyone else arrested.
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This article is continued in photo 451, but the text of the entire article is included here for ease of reading. The Handicapped Coloradan May 1989 VOL. 11, NO. 11 Boxed text in masthead: If you use a wheelchair and ever tried — or wanted -- to board an accessible bus in Detroit between Nov. 10, 1984, and the present, you owe it to yourself to read Justin Ravitz‘s story on p. 3. Photo: Man, in a dark suit standing against a white background with his hands in his pockets. He has dark hair and large eye glasses, a firm thoughtful look on his face. Caption reads: Mayor Pena tells UMTA officials they have a “moral obligation" to put lifts on buses. [Headline] Court grants transit rehearing In the wake of an often ugly battle with police, hotel security guards and the courts in Reno, wheelchair activists are heading for Philadelphia where the U.S. Court of Appeals has agreed to vacate its Feb. 13 decision to require all new buses purchased with federal funds to be equipped with wheelchair lifts. The case will now be heard by the entire 13-member court rather than the three judges who originally handed down the decision on a 2-l vote. The rehearing was requested by the Department of Transportation and the Department of Justice. Six disabled leaders had met with President Bush in an attempt to persuade him to call off the appeal. Bush didn't give them an answer at the time, said Wade Blank, one of the founders of the radical American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT), "but it's obvious the President has no intention of taking our side." So when the court convenes at 10 a.m. May 15, scores of wheelchair demonstrators will be outside chanting, "We will ride," the battle-cry of the six-year old movement. At press time, demonstrators were planning on arriving in Philadelphia on May 12 and demonstrating in front of the Justice Department there, up to but not including being arrested. "That will come later," Blank said. On Saturday, demonstrators are expected to attempt to board city buses, crawling onto them if necessary, and to otherwise disrupt service until Philadelphia transit officials sign an agreement promising to provide accessible service. Then on Sunday, the day before court opens, demonstrators will don Revolutionary War uniforms and march from Independence Hall to the federal courthouse, led by fife and drum. The movement is at a crossroads, Blank said, pointing out that many of his fellow activists are afraid that the court will reverse its pro-accessibility vote when its decision is made known, 30 to 90 days from now. Many of those activists are reluctant to appeal the decision to the U.S. Supreme Court if they lose in the Court of Appeals, arguing that the high court has a conservative majority, “We might have to wait 20 years before we get a liberal court," Blank said. "Better we find out where we stand with the court right now and then decide on a course of action." ADAPT has had plenty of experience with conservative judges in recent weeks, according to Blank, who said he broke down and cried at the treatment wheelchair defendants received in the Sparks courtroom of judge Don Gladstone. Gladstone told demonstrators that their mass arrests had "tarnished" their cause and suggested that the group needed "new leadership." Blank said Gladstone's courtroom was a zoo. "He locked the doors and screamed at us." Gladstone wasn't the only person in Reno and Sparks who was upset with ADAPT, which was there to protest at a regional meeting of the American Public Transit Association (APTA) as they have done in 16 other cities over the latter group's refusal to endorse mandatory accessibility for all transit systems in the country. The police weren’t very happy, either. Some 72 demonstrators were arrested during the 5-day-long protest, with about half of that number going to jail. City officials estimated that the protest cost local taxpayers at least $116,000. Police estimated their costs of controlling the group at $79,275, while the sheriff's department, which runs the Washoe County jail, placed its costs at about $34,164. Gladstone said municipal court costs will run about $3,000. But it wasn't just the money that bothered city and county officials. "While (the police) are out there handling these individuals and you cal 911, the response times change dramatically,” said Sparks Municipal Court judge Andy Cray. Police Lt. Tony Zamboni said, "We understand these people have certain rights, but they also don't have the right to obstruct other citizens." Sheriff Vince Swinney agreed with Zamboni and also seemed a bit miffed that the media were playing up the plight of the demonstrators. "Somebody should realize this is what these people want to do," he said. "if they were treated like royalty, they wouldn't be happy. And the media is playing it up 100 percent. I really think that we who have been here and will continue to be here deserve some credibility." ADAPT organizer Mike Auberger, 34, of Denver, said that the Washoe County jail was not prepared to deal with housing 30 disabled prisoners, although sheriffs department officials disagreed, saying that extra doctors and nurses were on duty. Twenty-two of the jailed demonstrators staged a hunger strike, including one woman who was warned by a doctor that she would ultimately go into seizures if she participated in the fast. Another demonstrator, Diane Coleman, an attorney from Los Angeles, was taken from the jail at 3 a.m. Tuesday morning when she started vomiting. Coleman was taken to the Washoe Medical Center where she was given liquids intravenously for dehydration. Headline for part 2 of article: Reno protest turns ugly as judge lectures ADAPT ”Get new leaders. ” Blank said that three or four demonstrators had to be hospitalized when they returned home because of inadequate care received at the jail. For example, Auberger was not allowed to empty his leg bag and he went into hyper reflex, according to Blank. “His blood pressure shot up to 300 and nearly blew his head off," Blank said. Unable to place a call to fellow ADAPT members in Sparks, Auberger was forced to call his parents in Indiana to see about getting help. Ultimately, Auberger had to bail himself out of jail in order to get medical treatment. “That's when the police began telling other jailed demonstrators that their leaders were bailing out on them," Blank said. Demonstrators also complained that the police in Reno and Sparks were rougher than the ones they had dealt with in other cities, pointing out that more of them were actually handcuffed than was usually the case. Most of the demonstrations took place outside the Nugget Casino and Hotel, which was serving as APTA's convention headquarters. Some 700 delegates were staying there. Demonstrators attempted to block all the entrances to the hotel to show APTA delegates what it is like not to have access to public institutions, buildings and buses. One demonstrator, Beverly Furnice, said her knee was broken when a Nugget security guard hit her leg as she was wheeling up to the door on the southeast side of the hotel. Nugget spokesperson Parley Johnson said he was sorry to hear about Furnice. “We made every possible effort to ensure the safety of all involved," he said. "However, if we have someone trying to get in, and we're trying to get the doors closed, what can I say? The person (trying to get in) is contributing to the problem. "We could not allow the group to come in and disrupt our business and cause problems with our customers. And we have every right to do this." Judge Gladstone several times commented on how well the hotel staff and police handled the situation. “He's just a front man for the casinos," Blank commented. On the other hand, demonstrators had nothing but praise for Reno's Citifare public transit system, which has already made a commitment toward a 100 percent lift-equipped bus system. All Citifare buses bought since 1984 have lifts, and the system expects its nonaccessible buses to be phased out by 1996. "We're not fighting Reno or any other city," Auberger said. “We're fighting APTA." Less than three weeks later, demonstrators were doing just that again, this time in Denver, where ADAPT was founded in 1983, Some 30 demonstrators were arrested as they protested outside the Radisson Hotel, where the Urban Mass Transit Association (UMTA) was holding a national transportation conference. The next day, April 25, 40 demonstrators, 30 of them in wheelchairs, were forcibly removed from the Federal Building at 9th and Stout by federal officers. Demonstrators were protesting word that the Department of Transportation, of which UMTA is part, had decided to appeal the Court of Appeals decision. "We are tried of winning lawsuits and never getting them implemented," said protester Maureen O'Rourke. UMTA‘s Alfred A. DelliBovi disagreed with the original court decision, saying his agency supports letting each transit provider decide how to handle disabled riders. Earlier Mayor Federico Pena met with ADAPT and reiterated his strong support for their goals, a statement he repeated when he met later with UMTA officials. Pena was responsible for forcing APTA officials to allow ADAPT to address its national convention in Denver in 1983. That is the only time ADAPT members have been allowed inside an APTA convention.
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DISCLOSURE September-October 1989, Issue No. 112 the national newspaper of neighborhoods [Headline] Disabled Protest Across Country: “Accessible Transit Is a Civil Right" This story continues on 436 but is included here in its entirety for ease of reading. PHOTO by Tom Olin: A large group of people in wheelchairs, on crutches, many carrying posters, are massed in front of a MCI New Jersey bus. Joe Carle is in the middle of the group with his back to the camera and on the back of his wheelchair is a sign that reads "I can't even get on the back of the bus." Also visible (right to left) are Cassie James, Diane Coleman, Brian Shea, Mike Early from CORD, two other guys in wheelchairs, Kent Killam, Julie Nolan, a white haired blind person with a big sign, and a short woman, perhaps a child, looking to her left and holding on to the back of a wheelchair. The group is blocking the bus and the street, while others walk by on the sidewalk. Caption reads: Members of American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT) and affiliated groups stages demonstratlon on disabled rights issues in front of buses at the federal court building, Philadelphia, May, 1989. by Mike Monti The message is clear: “We will ride,” say the members of American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT). From a series of demonstrations to a controversial court case, this relentless group keeps fighting for accessible transit around the country. Among its victories are a July, 1989 federal court ruling that transportation agencies no longer have a 3 percent cap in providing wheelchair lifts or paratransit. For the members of ADAPT, accessible transit is a basic civil right — and is always worth fighting for. We reported in Disclosure #l08 on ADAPT’s actions in Montreal at the annual convention of the American Public Transit Authority (APTA). APTA and other transit authorities continue to make it extremely difficult for people with disabilities to use public transit. Nevertheless, ADAPT has shown that it will confront APTA wherever it shows up. Last April, at the Western Regional Conference of APTA in Sparks, Nevada (just outside of Reno), over 125 ADAPT members staged actions at the conference, calling for public transportation that can be used by everyone — including people with disabilities. Members started off with a march from their hotel to the conference hotel. When they were about halfway there, ADAPT was met by a police blockade. Obviously, authorities already knew about ADAPT: here is a group that won’t stops until it forces permanent changes. In Sparks. the marchers were able to get around the police barriers. But when they got to APTA’s hotel, they were met by private security forces. The hotel security outnumbered the city’s police three-to-one -— and were able to chain the door shut before ADAPT entered. Forty-seven ADAPT members were arrested, and seven were sent to jail. “The Sparks police had obviously decided that we weren't going to march in the streets,” said Stephanie Thomas, an ADAPT member who lives in Austin, Texas. “But we were able to go around the car barricades. it was like water going around the rocks." The following afternoon, ADAPT staged another demonstration with many crawling across the street and around police barricades, blocking traffic until they reached the front door of the hotel. It was locked from the inside. This time, 25 were arrested. The charge: blocking a fire door which was locked. Many of the ADAPT members who were arrested went on a hunger strike. Meanwhile, ADAPT members on the outside held a press conference calling attention to the problems jail staff were having providing for several of the disabled people’s needs. A final protest was held the next day. One day later, the Sparks judge who sent the hunger strikers to prison made a deal with the protesters: he let out two protesters for the price of a $100 fine. The judge had imposed a much stiffer sentence a couple of days earlier, but changed his mind in the face of a group of arrested ADAPT members who made it clear that they would rather starve and stay in jail than pay a huge fine. Meanwhile, disability groups on the east and west coasts were raising money to help support ADAPT. On the fourth day of the hunger strike, the judge relented and the fine was reduced. By the end of the day, all arrested ADAPT members had been released — and many in the group headed to Denver, for more demonstrations. In Denver — which is the home of ADAPT — the group protested at the annual conference of the Urban Mass Transit Administration (UMTA). This time, demonstrations focused on the federal government's request for a re-hearing of the ADAPT vs. Burnley case. In February, ADAPT won a major victory from the Department of Transportation (DOT) - only to have it undercut by the government. The first of ADAPT’s arguments stated that the rule saying transportation agencies should not have to spend more than 3 percent of their budget on wheelchair lifts or paratransit was unconstitutional. Second, ADAPT held that the option allowing agencies to decide whether or not to provide new buses with wheelchair lifts was unconstitutional. DOT kept flip-flopping on the issue: first it said yes, and then it backed off, asking for a rehearing to vacate the decisions. In Denver, ADAPT confronted Michael Norton, U.S. Attorney for the Tenth District in Denver. “Why is the government working against disabled rights?” asked ADAPT. Norton eventually read a 20-page statement from Attorney General Thornburgh stressing “the need for concern, compassion, and commitment” — but also saying that the law never mandated integration. “It was a really offensive statement, ” said Stephanie Thomas. “On one hand, he was affirming the government's commitment, and on the other he’s fighting tooth and nail to stop rights for the disabled.” When the case was reheard in Philadelphia on May 15, ADAPT was ready. With help from the local chapter of Disabled in Action and the Cape Organization for Rights of the Disabled (CORD), protesters gathered at the federal court building. Four ADAPT members met with the U.S. Attorney, who listened to their concerns. Two days later, a protest was staged at Independence Hall. Dressed in revolutionary garb complete with wigs, three-cornered hats and fife and drum, the “Disability Rights Patriots” marched around the Liberty Bell. Court Decision On July 24, ADAPT won a significant victory as the original ruling striking down the 3 percent cap on wheelchair and paratransit lifts was upheld. On the local option issue, judges decided that the stipulation was legal. Now, it's back in the hands of DOT, for "clarification." Meanwhile, ADAPT will be working with lawyers to plan its next strategy in the legal arena, even though the courts have dodged the issue of equal rights for the disabled. Nevertheless, ADAPT is still ready for action. “We are not going to sit around and wait for the government to put a piece of legislation through,” said Wade Blank. What's next for ADAPT? The next APTA Conference will be held in Atlanta, Georgia, September 23-28, 1989. “The court’s decision on local option will make our demonstrations in Atlanta bigger,” says Mike Auberger, a co-director of ADAPT. Sparks Nevada, Denver, Philadelphia, Atlanta. . .ADAPT marches on for rights for people with disabilities. “Someday,” says Wade Blank, “ It will be just as appalling to see buildings without ramps as it was seeing signs that said ‘Whites Only.’ ” end of article Pictures of 2 graphic symbols: One is the ADAPT no-steps logo with American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit around the outside and a circle with a set of steps rising to the right and a bar across the circle and steps with the word ADAPT on it. The other is a power fist, with wheelchair warriors written below the arm. Caption reads: These symbols are part of ADAPT’s continuing fight. Says Wade Blank of ADAPT “Someday it will be just as appalling to see buildings without ramps as it was seeing signs that said ‘Whites Only.’”