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主頁 / 相簿 / 標籤 Atlantis Community 64
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The Handicapped Coloradan / Page 15 & 16 [This article continues in ADAPT 1786, but has been completely included here for easier reading.] Title: "If heaven isn't accessible God had better Watch out!" Photo: Waist up picture of Wade Blank with his below shoulder length blonde hair and round tinted glasses. He is smiling and wearing a vest. Caption reads: Wade Blank ADAPT founder dies in Mexico. Wade Blank went down to Baja, California, in February and drowned there trying to save his eight year old son Lincoln. He was there vacationing with his family. The money for the trip came from Wade’s share of a legal settlement in San Francisco when bad guys violated the civil rights of ADAPT demonstrators. He couldn't afford that kind of trip on his own. He never made more than $16,000 in his life. Lincoln was in the water swimming. An undertow got him and Wade went in after him. He had to know there was very little chance either one would survive. Some fisherman from a nearby village fished Wade’ s body from the water. His wife Molly brought his body home and they covered the coffin with an American flag. Only the stars on this flag formed a wheelchair. Lincoln’s body was never recovered. A few days before he left on that vacation, I told him to skip Baja and its treacherous waters for the calmer seas off Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. Wade said he’d think about it but we both knew he wouldn’t alter his plans. Wade Blank liked to be where the action was. Many of the 1100 people who filled the ballroom at the Radisson Hotel on Sunday, Feb. 21, to say goodbye to their fallen comrade had accompanied him into battle. “If heaven isn’t accessible,” one of them warned, “God better watch out!” Wade founded the Atlantis Community in 1975 when he helped several disabled people move out of a nursing home and into their own apartments. Then he went on to help organize protests against RTD for not having wheelchairs lifts on its buses, a move that later led to the creation of ADAPT, which then stood for American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (“The hard part is getting the acronym right,” he told me at the time.) I asked Tom Olin who was going to replace Wade. “No one,” he said. “Wade was into empowering disabled people. It’s a tribute to him that we’ll just keep on going.” Maybe. But it won’t be the same. People like Wade Blank don't come along very often. A writer for Westward once called Wade the nearest thing to a saint he had ever met. But Wade wasn’t perfect. After all, he was a Cleveland Browns’ fan. He had it so bad that on game day he’d call home to his folks in Ohio and have them put the phone next to the radio. He was president of the Cleveland Browns Fans in Exile Club. A small part of him died when Elway found Jackson in the end zone in the 1987 AFC Championship game. He was a devoted father who had a vasectomy reversed after he married Molly. He called me soon after the operation and bitched about having to lie still to prevent the tubes from severing again. It was the only time I knew him to stay still. The time spent was worth it. He loved Lincoln and Caitlan just as he loved Heather, his adopted daughter. He instilled in them special values. A neighbor recalled a time when she came home and observed Lincoln in front of his house directing some other kids. They weren't playing cowboy and Indian or war or any of the usual childhood games. They were playing rally. “All right,” Lincoln said. “United we stand, never apart.” Wade was a Presbyterian minister whose language would make a coal miner blush. I quoted him a lot on these pages over the past ten years or so but I never quoted him accurately. He used four letter words the way other people use punctuation. Someone made a TV movie about the events at Heritage Nursing Home and Wade said it was close to the truth. But the actor who played Wade didn’t quite capture his style. Wade wore his hair long and looked a little like a construction worker who took a wrong tum back in the 1960s. He once asked me if I wore ties. “I own one,” I said. “It keeps my sleeping bag rolled up.” He liked that. He hated ties. At the memorial service, those few men who showed up wearing ties were asked to remove them—out of respect. By then I owned a real tie. You can‘t go to a funeral in my small hometown without one. I left it at home for Wade. He didn’t have the eloquence of a Martin Luther King. He didn't need it. He wasn’t interested in grabbing the spotlight for himself. He taught his friends that their wheelchairs were a weapon and if they used them right, the whole world would take notice. RTD took notice. Denver became one of the first cities in the U.S. to adopt accessible public transit. Wade helped carry that message to countless other cities. He showed people how they could make a statement by going to jail and then he went out and raised the bail money. Eventually, in a parking lot in Atlanta, the feds gave in. Accessible public transit would be the law of the land. Wade wasn’t about to rest on his laurels. He turned his attention to an earlier cause. ADAPT changed the acronym to American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today and took on the nursing home industry. Wade knew that the disabled warriors who took on the federal government over accessible transit and got themselves arrested scores of times were strong enough to live in their own homes. He vowed to force the federal government to take money away from the nursing homes and make that dream a reality. That battle goes on. His friends at ADAPT are planning a memorial service in his honor in Washington, D.C. this May. At the same time, they’re going to make sure Bill Clinton honors his promises to provide funds for such attendant care. It's a fitting memorial but you can find plenty of monuments to Wade Blank in this country. There one at every street comer where there’s a curb cut and one on every bus equipped with a lift. And every time someone who is exploited because of a physical disability raises a fist in defiance and fights for his or her freedom and humanity, you’ll see Wade’s image in their eyes and his dream in their hearts. So long, Wade. If it’s really heaven, there won’t be a dress code. Written by Tom Schantz
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Wade Blank, from the waist up, wearing a black ADAPT Free Our People T-shirt. He has long - below the shoulder length - straight blonde hair parted in the middle, and he is wearing round tinted glasses. Behind him you can see the red and white stripes of the ADAPT flag.
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Column title: PEOPLE WHO MAKE A DIFFERENCE Photo: A downward shot of Wade Blank standing with his hands clasped. He has his signature long hair and tinted glasses and is wearing an anorak. Someone is partially visible behind Wade. Caption reads: Wade Blank dedicated almost 20 years of his life to fighting for civil rights for people with disabilities. The members of ADAPT - the disability rights organization Blank founded - will continue the battle in his memory. Title: A True Activist Wade Blank was raised in Canton, OH, where he learned to be a Cleveland Browns football fan. a condition that caused him great pain throughout his life. He earned the equivalent of a doctoral degree in theology from McCormick Seminary in Chicago, where he was ordained a Presbyterian minister. After seven years as a minister, he decided to take a year off for “human service" and became an orderly in a nursing home. His experiences there with young adults with disabilities led him to establish the second independent living center in the nation in 1975—the Atlantis Community. Wade Blank dedicated almost 20 years of his life to fighting for civil rights for people with disabilities. The members of ADAPT—the disability rights organization Blank founded will continue the battle in his memory. Blanks first years in his efforts to win civil rights for people who have disabilities were spent eliminating attitudinal and architectural barriers in Denver. Beginning with l2 young adults with disabilities who were placed in a nursing home for lack of any other options, Blank led them on an exodus into their own homes in the community, where he successfully persuaded the legislature to fund needed personal care assistance outside an institution for the first time. Since then, the Atlantis Community has liberated more than 900 people with severe disabilities from institutions and other sheltered settings and provides the services and support they require to maintain themselves in the community. Once the people of Atlantis entered the "free world," they found that society was completely unprepared to include them. So Blank and his friends set off to integrate Denver. The public buses they needed were inaccessible to wheelchairs. Blank led training sessions and actions that escalated from addressing the transit board to civil disobedience, blocking the buses people with disabilities couldn't ride. This seven-year campaign resulted in a 100% accessible bus system that offers affordable, self determined transportation to over 30,000 riders with disabilities in the area, and it developed an assertive group of people who vowed to fight for and win full and equal rights in their society. As the reputation of Denver as the most accessible city in the nation spread, activists from every state began to call for advice and help. ln1983, Blank founded ADAPT (American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit) as a training project. The dramatic actions of ADAPT members have generated publicity that has raised awareness of disability rights throughout the nation, trained over 1,200 activists in the “fire” of civil disobedience, and provided the political muscle behind the Americans with Disabilities Act. When the right to access to public transit was won in 1990, ADAPT’s name was changed to American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today. The new focus is on winning a federal mandate and funding for personal assistance services for every person with a disability in the nation who needs such help to live independently. Blank and his son Lincoln drowned on February 15, 1993, off the Baja Coast. The people of ADAPT will continue the struggle for this essential victory in their memories until all Americans with disabilities have the opportunity to choose to live independent lives. —By Molly Blank
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IF HEAVEN ISN'T ACCESSIBLE, GOD IS IN TROUBLE by Tari Susan Hartman Reprinted from Incitement, A publication of Atlantis/ADAPT [This article appears in ADAPT 1764 & 1773 but is completely included here for easier reading.] ADAPT mourns the loss of one of our greatest leaders, Wade Blank, and his son Lincoln. while on a family vacation in Todos Santos, Mexico, Lincoln got caught in an ocean undertow. Wade swam out to save him and both drowned on February 25th, 1993. They are survived by Wade's wife Molly and daughters Heather and Caitlin. Ironically, Wade died in the same way he lived swimming out into the face of hostile under currents, and giving his life to help others fight for theirs, Those who have come to national ADAPT actions remember in the early days Lincoln rode along on Wade's back. Later, he walked by wade's side while Caitlin rode. with his elfish smile, Lincoln quietly drank in all the action at demonstrations, vigils, planning meetings and anything else that came up in his dad's activist life. while other kids play "doctor" or "house", Lincoln played "rally." Wade was born December 4, 1940 in Pittsburgh, PA. After attending an all white high school, he travelled with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to Selma on a dare by a black college roommate. His experiences there taught him the deep oppression perpetuated by our "civilized" society. Once he graduated college, he served as pastor of a church just outside of Kent, Ohio that became the underground meeting place for the Students for a Democratic Society, SDS. After the Kent State killings, he returned to get a masters degree from McCormick Theological Seminary and was ordained a Presbyterian minister. Burnt out on his past activism and organizing, he moved to Denver and began working in a nursing home. with years of civil rights, war on poverty and antiwar organizing experience, he could not ignore the oppression he found there. So he began to deliver Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream of freedom directly to the doorstep of the disability ghetto: the nursing home. In 1971, while on staff at Heritage House, a Denver nursing home, Wade tried to work within the system to dignify the lives of the young disabled residents. A recent ABC—TV movie with Fred Savage entitled "When You Remember Me" chronicled this story. Wade and the resident's efforts were doomed to fail, but they gave birth to a better alternative. In 1974 Wade founded the Atlantis Community a model for community-based and consumer controlled independent living center named for the lost continent of Atlantis, those easily forgotten and dismissed. The first members of Atlantis were those young adults incarcerated in Heritage House, from which Wade had been fired. Forgotten by the system and often by their families, these individuals were not forgotten by Wade as he began to liberate them from the nursing home into the Atlantis Community. Years later Wade and attorney John Holland masterminded a $32 million lawsuit against Heritage House nursing home for obstruction of justice and violation of civil rights. The case went all the way to the US Supreme Court. Today many of those original nursing home residents are raising families in homes they now own. In 1978 Wade and Atlantis realized that if people with disabilities were to truly live independently, they would need, and should have a right to, accessible public transportation. On July 5-6. 1978 a "gang of nineteen" disability activists and Wade held their first inaccessible bus hostage in the Denver intersection of Broadway and Colfax. Late that night Wade was surprised when US Congresswoman Pat Schroeder handed him a doughnut and a cup of coffee. Atlantis‘ decision to take the fight for lifts on buses to the national level soon led to the birth of ADAPT (American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit. ADAPT was the nation's first direct action, grass-roots movement of disability activists and mushroomed in over 30 states, Canada, Sweden and England. Like the freedom riders of the 60s, ADAPT's struggle for accessible public transit became a national battle cry of the 80s. Over the course of eight years of biannual national demonstrations throughout the country, hundreds of ADAPT activists and their families and friends were arrested for their beliefs and commitment to ensure civil rights for all disabled citizens. Twelve years after the first bus seize, the Americans with Disabilities Act, ADA, mandated lifts on buses. ADAPT's street chant "access is a civil right" echoed in the halls of Congress, as politicians became increasingly aware that ADAPT and the disability rights movement fully expected ADA to be passed as landmark civil rights legislation. ADAPT organized the "wheels of Justice" march in March of 1990, and Wade played a key role. It was a call-- to— action that galvanized the disability rights movement to demand swift passage of ADA with no weakening amendments. Over 1,000 disability rights activists from across the nation joined forces with ADAPT to demonstrate to the world that they were to be taken seriously. On the second anniversary of the signing of the ADA (July 25, 1992), the city of Denver and its Regional Transit District commemorated that historic event by dedicating a plaque to Atlantis/ADAPT and the "gang of nineteen" who held the first bus. Wade refused to have his name engraved on the plaque, but his silent tears at the dedication ceremony revealed the depth with which he felt the issues of disability rights. He had left his mark forever etched in the foundation of our civil rights movement. In 1990, when it was clear that ADAPT had successfully led and won the fight for accessible public transportation with the passage of the ADA, wade and other national ADAPT leaders convened to plot their next course of action. There was little question for anyone what that next issue would be. ADAPT transformed its mission and became "American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today." Together, ADAPT and wade returned to the scene of one of society's most heinous crimes the warehousing of 1.6 million disabled men, women and children. These disabled Americans committed no crime, yet were and still are, interred against their will, in nursing homes, state schools and other institutions. They are used as the crop of industries like the nursing home lobby, physicians and their conglomerate owners who continue to get rich by robbing our people of their fundamental civil, human and inalienable rights to life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Most of us are spectators sitting on the sidelines of life, learning history from books. Wade, was an active participant in over three decades of political organizing. He taught others how to create and record their own destiny. A brilliant strategist, he helped shape the tide of the disability rights movement. Yet Wade was never too busy to roll up his sleeves and assist someone with attendant services, push or repair a chair or drive a van. He stood up for what he believed in and expected others to do the same. In his Pursuit to free others from the chains of oppressions he was arrested 15 times and proud of it! Several weeks ago Wade Blank's story, including the development of Atlantis and ADAPT, was officially accepted into the National Archives. Wade, a passionate Cleveland Browns fan, was a loving husband, daddy, friend, organizer and leader. He valued and encouraged the unique contributions that each of us has to give to ourselves, each other and the world around us. We honor his contribution, value his friendship, and grieve the loss of our beloved friend and colleague. Wade was one of the few non disabled allies of the disability rights movement who understood the politics of oppression. At times through the years, his leadership role was questioned, but he never lost sight of the vision, nor lacked the support of those he was close with. Photo by Tom Olin: Wade Blank and Mike Auberger sitting on either side of the plaque honoring the Gang of 19. Caption reads: Co-Directors Wade Blank and Mike Auberger reflect on the past decade of organizing and activism.
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Rocky Mountain News Sunday Magazine Sunday, May 25, 1986 Column title: people to watch Photo by Dick Davis: Wade Blank is sitting by a window with a rainbow and Atlantis Community painted on the outside so the letters are backward in this picture. There are some plants and some papers on a counter between Wade and the window. Wade has on a plaid button up shirt, his tinted glasses and long blonde hair parted in the middle. He is smiling. Title: Wade Blank: A smooth ride Occupation and activities: Wade Blank is the founder of Atlantis Community. a group that helps severely disabled people live on their own, outside of nursing homes. He is a Presbyterian minister who helped draft resisters flee to Canada in the 1960s and organized the disabled to fight for their rights in the '70s and '80s. During one demonstration he and several people with disabilities took sledge hammers to a city curb, to show the problems people in wheelchairs have getting around on city sidewalks. "My goal is for the community to understand," he says. "And understand that will be a long process.“ Age: 45. Birthplace: Pittsburgh. Marital status: Married, with a one and a half year-old son and a 15-year-old daughter. Worse job: “I worked for Sparkle Wash Truck and Mobile Home Wash. l went out and washed semi-trucks and mobile homes -- a wash and a wax ior $20." Car: 1977 Dodge wheelchair van; 1972 Volkswagen bug. Favorite vacation spot: Moab, Utah. Favorite music group: Talking Heads. Favorite movie: Apocalypse Now. The worst part of my job: “Trying to get the state to reimburse me for the services we've provided." I first became interested in the problems of the disabled: "When I started as an orderly in a nursing home in 1971. I was going to work every day and asking myself, if I was disabled, is this the way I'd want to live the rest of my life? One of the things that shook me to the core: There was one woman, she was 20 years old with polio and she was going back to high school we (had) filed an action to force the school systems to accept the disabled in school she couldn't deal with her classmates knowing she lived in a nursing home. She committed suicide. That's when I decided to bail out of the nursing home model. What can you do to make a nursing home more acceptable? You just can't." Most painful experience: “When that woman committed suicide. She hung on about 10 days. I remember going to St. Anthony's, watching her on the breathing machine and hoping she'd make it. It was almost my personal guilt; people said, ‘if you wouldn't have subjected her to the outside world, if the nurses had total control (at the nursing home), this kind of thing never would have happened.' When they told me she stopped breathing, I had to take a leave of absence." One thing I can’t stand: "Suits and ties." Nobody knows I’m: "Sentimental." Most irrational act: "When I first came to Denver. I hung around people against the (Vietnam) war. We were going to shut down 16th and California (with a sit in). I sat down. And when the police said, ‘Move,’ everybody moved except me. To this day. when I saw everybody getting up, I don't know why I didn't get up and move." My biggest regret: “That people come into your life and go out of your life and that we can't maintain constant friendship with everybody." Worst advice my parents gave me: "You can change the system from within." My most embarrassing moment: “I was preaching at this church. It was a hot July day and a congregation of very elderly people. l said, ‘For the closing hymn, will everyone remain seated.‘ We always sang Stand Up for Jesus at the closing hymn. So here's the congregation sitting there singing Stand Up For Jesus. I don't know lf anybody figured out the irony of the situation, but I sure did." If I could change one thing about myself: "I'd be less compulsive." A final word: "All the disabled want is to live like everyone else. That's all we represent: the right to ride public transportation, the right to go into any restaurant to eat, the right to have enough money to survive, like everyone else. My daughter is 15 years old and in a wheelchair. l have the same hopes for her that anybody else does. that she should be able to go to school and move around the country just like anybody else."
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[This page continues the article from Image 297. Full text available under 297 for easier reading.]
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Letterhead: logo with two stylized wings? or ribs? or plant? National Committee for the Rosa L Parks Shrine 9311 Wildemere Detroit Michigan 48206 Tele 313-898-6776 October 3, 1986 ADAPT Atlantis Community Inc. Rev. Wade Blank Eastside Office 4536 E. Colfax Denver, Colorado 80220 Dear Rev. Blank, Mrs. Parks will not be participating in the press conference on October 5, 1986 at twelve noon for ADAPT because, of the tramatic manner in which you choose to dramatize disabled Americans lack of access to public transportation. Mrs. Parks supports active peaceful protest of human rights issues not, tactics that will embarrass the cities guest and cripple the cities present transportation system. We do not wish any American to be discriminated against in transportation or any other form that reduces their equality and dignity however, we cannot condone disruption of Detroit city services. Please excuse the sudden withdrawal from what we originally thought was a conference to present ADAPT's issues on equal rights for disabled Americans in public transportation to the City of Detroit. We wish you success in securing equal rights for all users of public transportation. Very truly yours, Elaine Steele, Assistant to Rosa L. Parks
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Denver Post [This article continues on in ADAPT 123, but the entire text is included here for easier reading.] Photo by Lyn Alweis: A short haired man in a jacket and dark slacks [Mel Conrardy] is lifted in his wheelchair from the sidewalk to a bus. The lift comes out of the front door of the bus and has railings on either side of the lift almost as tall as the seated man. Just by the bus door is a sign on the side of the bus that says "RTD Welcome Aboard." Caption: An RTD bus with wheelchair lift provides mobility for Mel Conrardy Title: Leaders of handicapped rate RTD service best in country By Norm Udevitz, Denver Post Staff Writer Disabled Denverites just a few years ago had as much chance of riding a bus as they did of climbing Mount Everest. “It was brutal the way RTD treated us,” said Mike Auberger, an official in the Atlantis Community, for the disabled and a leader in the fight that has turned the Regional Transportation District’s handicapped service around. In the 1970s and early 1980s, RTD busses then rarely equipped with wheelchair lifts, often left wheelchair-bound riders stranded on streets. Drivers, lacking training in dealing with visually or language impaired people, panicked when blind or deaf riders tried to board buses. “It used to be that even in the dead of winter, when it was below zero, those of us in wheelchairs would wait 2 or 3 hours for a bus to finally stop," Auberger recalls. “And often the lift was broken and we couldn't get on the bus anyway. And usually the drivers were rude and angry. They would tell us that we were ruining their schedules." But conditions have changed, Auberger says: “Right now, Denver has the most accessible public transit system for the handicapped — and all the public - in the country." Debbie Ellis, a state social services worker who heads the agency's Handicapped Advisory Council, agrees, saying: “It took a lot of pressure, but RTD has responded and now the bus system is doing a good job of serving the handicapped." Leaders of national programs for the disabled also agree. In fact, the President's Committee on Employment of the Handicapped will bring 5,000 delegates, many of them handicapped, to its national conference in Denver in April. This will be the first time in four decades the group has held its national session outside of Washington DC. “One of the key reasons we're meeting in Denver this year is because it just might be the most comfortable city in the country for the handicapped,” says Sharon Milcrut, head of the Colorado Coalition for Persons with Disabilities, which is hosting the conference. “A very important aspect of that comfort," she notes, “is how accessible the transit system is for the handicapped.” It didn't get that way easily. In the decade between 1974 and 1984, handicapped activists had to pressure indifferent RTD administrators and directors. Each gain was hard won. “We used every tactic in the book, from lawsuits to bus blockades on the street and sit-ins at the RTD offices," says Wade Blank, an Atlantis group director. “The lawsuits didn't help much but when we took to the streets in the late 1970s, I think that's when we started getting their attention." Blank and others also say the 1984 hiring of Ed Colby as RTD general manager helped. Before he arrived, less than half of the 750 RTD buses had wheelchair lifts, which often were in disrepair. Training for drivers to learn how to deal with handicapped riders was minimal. Agency directors resisted change. RTD relied heavily on a costly special van operation called Handyride - a door-to-door pickup service for handicapped. It has cost $13[? glare makes number hard to read] million to run since it began in 1975. “Over the past couple of years the turnaround has been phenomenal," Auberger says. “All of RTD's new buses are being ordered with lifts and older buses are being retrofitted." By 1986's end, almost 80 percent of the bus fleet — 608 of 765 buses — had wheelchair lifts; 82 percent of the fleet's 6,242 daily trips are now accessible for the disabled. Plans call for the fleet to be 100 percent lift-equipped by 1987's end. “The lifts aren't breaking down all the time now, either," Auberger said, noting that agency officials found drivers had neglected to report broken lifts: “That way the lifts stayed broken and drivers had an excuse for not picking us up. A bunch of people were fired over that and others realized that Colby wasn't kidding about improving handicapped service." Driver training also has improved dramatically. “It isn't perfect yet,” Ellis of the advisory council says. "But everyone is working hard at it. What we are finding is that 20 percent of the drivers understand that they are moving people, all kinds of people, and they're really great with the handicapped. “Another 20 percent figure their job is to move buses and to heck with passengers, all kinds of passengers. That bottom 20 percent probably won't ever change. So we're working real hard on the 60 percent in between," Ellis says. Drivers, for example, learn to help blind riders. “That’s an improvement that helps the disabled, but it also helps regular passengers who are newcomers to the city,” Ellis says. All the improvements haven't come cheap. Since 1974, more than $5million has been spent on lifts and lift maintenance, most of the expense was incurred in the last three years. RTD plans to spend $9 million more in the next six years to keep the fleet up to its current standards and pay for more driver training. Another $4 million will be spent on HandyRide service. Ironically, Auberger and Ellis both say one of the biggest problems remaining is getting more handicapped people to use mass transit. “There are no reliable figures," Ellis says. “But we think there are about 20,000 handicapped people in the metro area and only about 200 or 300 are using buses on a regular basis." Auberger, confined to a wheelchair after breaking his neck in an accident ll years ago, complains: “The medical system builds a bubble around handicapped people and makes them think they have to be protected. "That's just not true in most cases. So one of the things we're doing now is educating the handicapped to overcome their fears. We've finally got a bus system that works for us and we want the disabled to use it." Photo by Lyn Alweis: A rather straight looking man [Mel Conrardy] in a white jacket, big mittens, and a motorized wheelchair, wears a slight smile as he rides the bus. Someone in a dark jacket stands beside him, and behind him, further back on the bus, other riders are sitting on the bus seats. Caption reads: A bus seat folds up to anchor Mel Conrardy's wheelchair to the floor. Conrardy commutes to work at the Atlantis Community.
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The Denver Post, Metro section, Tuesday Jan. 5, 1982 2 PHOTOS, The Denver Post / John J Sunderland: First: Through bars that look a bit like the ropes in a boxing ring, a man in a wheelchair (Mark Johnson) sits, chin resting on his hand, and looks on thoughtfully as a police officer writes something on a piece of paper on a surface in front of them. The officer is leaning forward almost over Mark, and Mark looks calm and very thoughtful as he watches. Caption reads: Mark Johnson, 30, was one of two protesters cited Monday at Regional Transportation District offices. He later left and was not charged. Second photo: In a brick covered room, a person in a wheelchair has his back to the camera and facing a man who is blocking his way. The man standing faces the camera and points toward it. Caption reads: Bob West, Regional Transportation District director of security, tells demonstrator he won't be allowed to obstruct business. Bus Plan Protesters Chain Selves By GEORGE LANE, Denver Urban Affairs Writer Wheelchair-bound protesters chained themselves to stairway railings and blocked the main entrance to local transit offices for about 90 minutes Monday until police removed them from the building. Two persons were cited for trespassing as 13 disabled persons in wheelchairs and about an equal number of attendants and supporters participated in the protest at the offices of the Regional Transportation District. Spokesmen for the group vowed they will return today. The demonstration was organized primarily by members of the Atlantis Community for the disabled and Wade Blank, co-administrator of Atlantis, to protest a decision by the RTD board of directors not to put wheelchair lifts on 89 high-capacity, articulated buses slated to be added to the RTD bus fleet in 1983. RTD officials allowed the demonstrators access to the building at 1600 Blake St. about 11 a.m. and raised no objections as the protesters held a press conference. During the press conference RTD was accused of reneging on a promise and violating the civil rights of the disabled by not ordering the lifts on the new buses. Following the press conference, “out of order" signs on two elevators foiled the group's plan to stage a sit-in at the third floor offices of L.A. "Kim" Kimball, RTD's executive director and general manager. “Kimball is as accessible as his buses," remarked one of the demonstrators. A brief scuffle occurred about 11:20 a.m. when Blank and several attendants attempted to carry three wheelchair occupants up a spiral stairway to Kimball‘s office. Mike Hughes, an RTD security officer, blocked the trip up the steps. The three wheelchairs with their occupants eventually were chained and padlocked to the handrailing of the stairway. Two more wheelchairs later were chained and padlocked to the landing of another stairway. The front entrance to the building was then blocked by five or six motorized wheelchairs as about a dozen policemen waited across the street. Capt. Bill Brannan ordered the demonstrators to leave the building. He then said those refusing to leave the building would be cited and ordered to appear in court it he believed they understood what they were doing. When the policemen and paramedics entered to evacuate the building, only Stephan Saunders, 31, and Mark Johnson, 30, would give their names to police. Both men were given misdemeanor citations for obstructing a government operation and obstructing a public passageway. The charges against Johnson, however, weren't filed because he later decided to leave the building voluntarily.
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The Denver Post Friday, Dec. 18, 1981 [Headline] Handicapped Will Protest RTD Wheelchair-Lift Ban By George Lane Denver Urban Affairs Writer The board of directors of the Regional Transportation District Thursday made it official – there will be no wheelchair lifts on 89 high-capacity buses expected to be delivered in 1983. The board actually decided a month ago there would be no lifts on the new buses, but they have been hedging on finalizing that action because of objections voiced by the area’s disabled community. Following the vote on the lifts, Wade Blank, co-administrator for the Atlantis Community for the disabled and organizer of the protest against the RTD action, told the transit directors that members of the handicapped community view the action as a violation of their human rights and they will respond to that violation Jan. 4. Blank later said members of the disabled community will be in “training for civil disobedience” between now and Jan. 4. He said beginning Jan. 4, 10 disabled persons in wheelchairs will stage a sit-in in the office of L.A. “Kim” Kimball, RTD’s executive director and general manager. “Everyday during the month of January, 10 disabled people will be occupying Kimball’s office,” Blank said. They won’t have any able-bodied people with them – and if they’re arrested they will be replaced by 10 more. At the conclusion of the board meeting, Kimball told the directors that the RTD staff will take steps to try to prevent this action, but he doesn’t think it proper to discuss those steps at this time. The RTD board during its Nov. 19 meeting voted to save more than a million dollars by not ordering the lifts on the new buses. The RTD staff recommended this action because they said the lifts are expensive (more than $12,000 per bus) and difficult to maintain. The staff proposal was to use the articulated buses on high ridership bus routes, freeing regular buses with wheelchair lifts to provide better service for the handicapped. A delegation from the handicapped community objected to this proposal, with arguments that RTD officials had promised several years ago that 50 percent of the district’s bus fleet would be made accessible to wheelchair-bound riders and all new buses would be ordered with lifts. About 25 disabled persons from Atlantis staged a wheelchair-bound sit-in following the November meeting until Kimball and three board members promised to attempt to get the entire board to reconsider the action. Thursday’s vote was the outcome of that promise.
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August 1982 Early Surveys Show a Positive Response to RTD Accessibility EARLY INDICATIONS are proving that accessible bus routes will attract many disabled riders. According to unofficial count along the major Denver routes there is a 78 percent increase in the number of riders who previously has been forced to shun public transit. “The response is encouraging,” said Wade Blank, director of the Atlantis Community and a longtime proponent for RTD modification. “But it will take a bit more time for the word to spread to some 16,000 Denver residents who use wheelchairs.” At the HAIL, Inc. office, co-proponents in the long squabble to convince RTD officials of the practical aspects of accessible routes, incoming mail and phone calls are revealing gratification and relief from many sectors of the handicapped community. In one of the letters, Molly Henderson writes: “As the mother of a disabled daughter who uses a wheelchair, I would like to thank the members of the disabled community who fought so hard and won the right to ride the bus whenever and wherever my daughter wishes.” Mark Johnson, Independent Living Coordinator, HAIL, Inc., for several disabled residents at the Halcyon House, reflects, “It’s obvious this RTD decision was need and appropriate. Many other similar decisions can also have a significant impact on the quality of life for persons with disabilities.” A disabled bus rider states, “The service is absolutely wonderful. It is more convenient a less time consuming to have busses with lifts. It helps me do my job more efficiently. And, so far, the attitude of drivers and the public is excellent.” Theresa Preda, HAIL’s executive director, says, “We still have a long way to go. I think it is an achievement the disabled community can rightly be proud of. Now, hopefully, this advancement may help indicate to others that there are still many areas that are still inaccessible, needing revision to meet the RTD initiative.”
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Denver Post 1/82 PHOTO (no credit given): A man in a wheelchair (Stephen Saunders) is tipped back in a wheelie by one man, as another bends forward over his legs and reaches down on the side of his wheelchair. Behind them a couple of police officers are visible. Caption reads: Stephen Saunders is carried away from the offices of the Regional Transportation District during a January protest over an RTD decision to not make some new buses accessible to the handicapped. [Headline] RTD Fighting Handicapped Act By Howard Pankratz Denver Post Staff Writer The Regional Transportation District, long at odds with various segments of Denver’s handicapped community is asking Denver District Judge Harold Reed to declare the Colorado Handicapped Act unconstitutional. At the time the state Legislature passed the act, it said it was doing so to “encourage and enable the blind, the visually handicapped, the deaf, the partially deaf, and the otherwise physically disabled to participate fully in the social and economic life of the state and to engage in remunerative employment.” But RTD in motions filed in recent weeks with Reed, has charged that the statue is unconstitutionally vague and overbroad. RTD also says that those who violate the act are subject to a criminal penalty. In particular, RTD lawyers Alan E. Richman and Lawrence D. Stone take aim at a section the act which says the handicapped are “entitled to full and equal housing and full and equal accommodations, advantages, facilities, and privileges of all common carriers, airplanes, motor vehicles, railroad trains, motor buses, streetcars, boats or any other public conveyances or modes of transportation…” Does that mean, ask the RTD lawyers, that “cab drivers are liable for criminal penalty for refusing to buy cabs which can transport persons in wheelchairs? What about persons in iron lungs or on other life support systems? Does this mean that a private automobile has to be wheelchair accessible?” The act, they contend, is sweeping in nature and poses an “impossible conundrum… to an organization or a person who wishes not to violate its provisions on pain of criminal sanctions.” Those who violate the act are guilty of a misdemeanor and are subject to a maximum sentence of a $100 fine and 60 days in county jail. In January 1982, seven wheelchair-bound individuals and the Atlantis Community for the disabled accused the district in a lawsuit filed in Denver District Court of violating both the Colorado Handicapped Act and a settlement reached in federal court several years ago. Basically they contended that in the federal settlement RTD agreed that all new buses would have wheelchair-lift equipment. Although many of the new buses are accessible to people in wheelchairs, they contend that RTD has decided against making 89 new buses, due for delivery in June, accessible to the handicapped. By denying such access, says the lawsuit, RTD has breached both the terms of the federal settlement and the duties it owes the handicapped under the Colorado
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RTD Executive Promises To Try Wheelchair Bus Travel Firsthand ATLANTIS From 1-B The Handi Ride, 12 buses which provide curb-to-curb service for 150 handicapped persons each day on a flexible schedule, was to have been eliminated in July. It will be retained for the rest of the year, Kimball said. Starting in July, 334 buses equipped with wheelchair lifts — plus the Handi Ride - will circulate on more than two dozen routes, the RTD official said. Specially equipped buses now operate on only 11 routes. He also promised that the Handi Ride program would continue until another program has been developed. The official also told the group that “RTD alone can’t solve all (their) transportation problems" and urged them to think in terms of a “regional consensus” of agencies dealing with the disabled. He also suggested that they seek state funding. Spokesmen for the Atlantis Community for the disabled, one of the parties to the lawsuit, on Wednesday declared the Handi Ride shouldn't be phased out, and many attending the session agreed. They included Don Burton, executive director of United Cerebral Palsy, who said he feared many disabled persons would lack access to community services; Barb Sokol, a social worker with Western Dialysis Center, who said other transit alternatives weren't “as reliable or flexible,” and a number of handicapped persons, who asked for continuation or expansion of the service. Teresa Breda, executive director of Holistic Approaches to Independent Living (HAIL), said, “In no way do I want Handi Ride to stop. “But that’s just one segment of transportation services tor the disabled,' she noted, adding that it was “one part of a lot of needs.”
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Rocky Mountain News Friday, May 7, 1982 All RTD routes to serve disabled By Jerry Brown News-Staff Regional Transportation District officials plan to provide wheelchair-accessible service on all RTD routes beginning next month, fulfilling a commitment made three years ago. “As far as I know, we are the first in the country to get this far,” in providing bus service for the physically handicapped, said district spokeswoman Kathy Joyce. About 150 rides a week currently are taken by handicapped passengers on the 10 routes in Denver, two in Boulder and all routes in Longmont that offer wheelchair-accessible service, Joyce said, with a peak weekly ridership of 270. The expansion of accessible service follows completion of the installation of wheelchair lifts on 186 AM General buses purchased by RTD in 1977 and 1978. RTD purchased 127 new buses from General Motors of Canada, and RTD also has 33 older buses that had been previously equipped with lifts, giving the agency 346 lift-equipped buses out of a total fleet of 671. RTD spent $3,882,222 - or $20,872 per bus - retrofitting the AM General buses, Joyce said. RTD doesn't have cost figures for the lifts on the new buses, which were delivered early last year. The cost of lifts on those buses was included in the $15.5 million purchase price, Joyce said. Beginning June 6, half of all rush-hour buses and all off-peak buses will be wheelchair accessible, RTD Executive Director L.A. Kimball said. Wade Blank, co-director of the Atlantis Community for the handicapped, said his organization is pleased with the proposed new service. RTD also has promised a public relations program to promote the new service, another longtime Atlantis goal, Blank said. Atlantis filed a lawsuit in 1977 and staged a series of demonstrations in 1977, 1978 and 1979 in efforts to force RTD to make its regular routes accessible to the handicapped. In mid-1979, RTD agreed to make all its routes wheelchair accessible after the U.S. Department of Transportation issued national regulations requiring that half of all rush-hour buses be wheelchair-accessible by July 1982. The federal regulations were rescinded last year, but RTD agreed to meet its earlier commitment, anyway. Earlier Atlantis held more demonstrations to protest RTD’s decision not to put wheelchair lifts on 89 new buses scheduled for delivery next year. Atlantis is challenging that decision in Denver District Court. RTD became one of the first transit agencies in the United States to offer wheelchair-accessible service on regular routes last June when it began providing such service on some of its busier routes.
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The Denver Post PHOTO by John Prieto, Denver Post: A woman in a wheelchair (Carolyn Finnell) is surrounded four able-bodied persons. One man is kneeling down in front of her to talk with her. Caption reads: Carolyn Fannell (In wheelchair) discusses the protest with RTD executive director L.A. “Klm" Kimball. Boxed Text: "You were talking about a separate and unequal system." -- Protester Wade Blank Threat of Sit-In Over RTD Lift Plans Dissolves By GEORGE LANE, Denver Post Urban Affairs Writer [This story continues on ADAPT 113, but the entire text has been included here for easier reading.] After tense negotiations, Regional Transportation District officials avoided use of police force Thursday night to break up a threatened all-night wheelchair sit-in at RTD headquarters. The protesters want RTD to reconsider a decision not to put wheelchair lifts on new buses — a decision they say broke an agency promise made to them last year. Three district board members promised about 25 disabled persons they would try to call a special meeting to reconsider the anti-lift action. The sit-in was staged in the fifth-floor executive offices of the RTD at 1325 S. Colorado Blvd. by members of the Atlantis Community for the disabled. The promise, contained in a policy statement adopted by the RTD board a year ago, was that 50 percent of the existing bus fleet of more than 600 vehicles would be retrofitted with wheelchair lifts, and all new buses would be ordered with lifts. When the statement was approved, there was a federal regulation demanding that all federally financed transit agencies make transportation modes accessible to the handicapped, and all new buses purchased had to have the lifts. RTD was one of the only transit agencies in the country to take steps toward complying with the regulation. But the regulation was repealed last July. Thursday afternoon, the RTD board voted to save more than $1 million by canceling the order to have the lifts installed on 89 high-capacity, articulated buses expected to be delivered in 1983. Wade Blank, co-administrator of Atlantis, pointed out to board members before the vote was taken that the day the regulation was rescinded, RTD officials said lifting the regulation would have no effect on the district's commitment to serving disabled persons. “A week ago I came to a meeting, and about 10 minutes to four, it was casually mentioned" there would be no lifts on articulated buses, Blank said. "I was dazed... it took a few days to realize that you were talking about a separate and unequal system." Robert Conrad, also an Atlantis administrator, told RTD board members he feels "betrayed" because he has worked closely with RTD on providing service to the handicapped “and all of a sudden you spring this on us." Board member Flodie Anderson explained to the approximately 75 angry persons attending the meeting that RTD intends to use the articulated buses on express routes and other heavy routes. Under that plan, Anderson said, other buses will be freed that will be lift-equipped and able to provide better service to disabled people than is provided now. Board member Edward Cassinis told the group that buses currently equipped with wheelchair lifts are carrying a maximum of 270 wheelchair passengers per week. RTD's “handiride,“ which provides front-door service to disabled passenger, is handling 831 riders per week. When the vote was taken on the action, the outcome was 12-4 against installation of the lifts. Members of the Atlantis Community and several other disabled organizations then gathered ln hallway outside the first-floor meeting room and decided to “resume civil disobedience." The group of about 25, all from Atlantis, then rode the elevators to the fifth floor of the building and began their sit-in shortly after 4 p.m. Motorized wheelchairs were parked in the doorways of the three elevators to make it impossible for them to be used. Shortly after the beginning of the demonstration, Bob West, RTD’s director called for police assistance and paramedics “because we don’t want anybody to get hurt.” The police, however, didn’t arrive for more than an hour and when they did arrive, the negotiating session that would end the sit-in already was in progress in a fifth-floor conference room. During that session, board members Mary Duty, Kathi Williams and Thomas Bastien agreed to try to get their fellow board members to meet again to possibly reconsider the issue. L.A. “Kim” Kimball, RTD’s executive director and general manager, also agreed not to execute the board action until an effort is made to set up the special board meeting. “But I can’t guarantee they will” Kimball added. “We can guarantee that if they don’t, we’ll file suit for breach of promise,” responded Mary Penland, an Atlantis employee. “And we’ll guarantee those articulated buses won’t roll unless they roll over our bodies.”