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Degemer / Rummadoù / Merkerioù Diane Coleman
+ ADAPT - American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today + State of Illinois Center 2
ADAPT (706)
Chicago Tribune Tuesday, May 12, 1992 Title: State thwarts protest, so disabled switch site By Rob Karwath A threatened demonstration by wheelchair-bound protesters prompted an unprecedented show of force Monday at the 16-floor glass-and-steel State of Illinois Center. The demonstrators instead targeted federal offices several blocks south, leaving 3,000 state workers walking along barricaded corridors and past security checkpoints in the building at 100 W. Randolph St. Workers had to tell uniformed police where they were going. Security guards manned the elevators. A trip from an upper floor to a main-floor coffee shop became a half-hour journey. The preparations were made for a group that has become increasingly militant, with members at times chaining themselves to objects and forming chains of wheelchairs. After experiencing a day of the clampdown, most employees interviewed said they thought the state Department of Central Management Services, which runs the building, has overreacted. “It's ridiculous," said Peggy Craddieth, a secretary at the Illinois Pollution Control Board. “Even during Operation Desert Storm they weren’t this tight.” State officials said the tight security will continue all week, or at least until the protesters from Americans Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT) leave town. The heavy security seemed out of place to those familiar with the idea behind the wide—open state building. Architect Helmut Jahn created the building to symbolize the openness of a properly run democracy. Jahn’s concept was former Gov. James Thompson's frequent retort to anyone who criticized the building as a poor use of space. “There’s a general discomfort all across the office about this,” said Rob Cushing, a lawyer in the lllinois attorney general‘s office. He said of the demonstrators, “We shouldn't have to go through all of this to deny them their right to protest.” Central Management Services officials said they never intended to create a problem with the extra security, which included calling all department police in on their days off and hiring l6 private security guards at a cost of about $2,000 a day. Instead, department spokeswoman Helen Adorjan said the state was simply trying to keep the building open after receiving a call from ADAPT warning that the group might try to block doors and elevators at the building this week. The group is protesting what it believes to be a lack of government funds for programs that allow disabled people to live at home and avoid nursing homes. ADAPT did block doorways and elevators Monday in at least one Loop building where federal offices are housed. Diane Coleman, an organizer in ADAPT, said Monday that the group went to 105 W. Adams, the Bankers Building, because it houses one of the regional offices of the Department of Health and Human Services. “There have been movements by `groups` like this before, but they were neglecting civil rights tactics—taking it to the streets,” she said. “And we'll do it until we win this issue. Six times the money goes to nursing homes and other institutions than to home and community-based services. We want 25 percent of that nursing home budget to go to home care." Many State of Illinois building workers said they were concerned that everyone entering the building was barred from the Easement and first-floor elevators, which were roped of and guarded by Central Management Services police officers. Yellow and black paper signs directed workers and patrons to an escalator that took them to the second floor where they were allowed to board the elevators. The escalator guaranteed that any wheechair-bound protesters wouldn‘t make it beyond the ground level. But some state workers said they were concerned that wheelchair-bound employees and disabled people with state business had to specially request that an elevator descend to the first floor and then convince building police that they were not protesters. “ls it fair for someone who shows up in a wheelchair to have to declare their business?" asked Alex Des Chenes, a contractor with the state Department of Public Health. “Have you seen the tapes of what the have done in other cities?” Anforjan said. “This group completely immobilizes activity. They need to be able to express themselves, but we need to keep the building operating." But, in an effort to prevent a disruption, workers said all of the extra security only ended up causing a disruption. The building's Lake Street entrance was open, but a large steel gate inside the revolving glass doors sealed it off to all but riders of the CTA subway trains below. A newsstand and a Chinese restaurant located inside the entrance were empty as most of their customers were forced to bypass them. Even some of the Central Management Services police running the elevators said they disagreed with the security plan and would have tried less-disruptive measures. “Everybody’s complaining about this," said one officer, shaking his head as he punched elevator buttons. “It‘s crazy." Tribune photo by David Klobucar: A mass of people are clustered in one big not. ADAPT protesters in wheelchairs are on the street and people in suits and similar work outfits are making their way down the log jammed sidewalk, up to the police barricades. A woman in a dress is stepping over and through two of the protesters so she can continue in the street. Between the street and the sidewalk a metal police barricade is partially visible, and two uniformed officers appear to be casually trying to hold the barricades up. Caption reads: Protesters from Americans Disabled for Attendant Programs Today block an entrance to the U.S. Health and Human Services Department on West Adams Street Monday.
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.