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ホーム / アルバム / タグ Atlantis Community 64
- ADAPT (109)
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. - ADAPT (77)
The Selma of handicapped rights By Melanie Tem One recent Sunday morning, Kathy Vincent, a 41-year-old Denver woman with cerebral palsy, decided to go to church. She left her apartment, which she had just moved into after spending years in a nursing home, and propelled herself to a No.15 bus stop downtown. She saw "what looked like a wheelchair bus" approaching, and prepared to board it via the hydraulic lift. Instead, the driver told her the lift had been disconnected and, "this isn't a wheelchair bus anymore." The next wheelchair-accessible bus would arrive, he told her, in 30 minutes. "By that time," Vincent later recalled, "church would have been over." That incident has made Vincent a sympathizer with the more militant of Denver's disabled community - led principally by the Atlantis Community and HAIL(Holistic Approaches to Independent Living) - who are demanding that Regional Transportation District dramatically increase the number of wheelchair-accessible buses in its system. Specifically, they want the 89 new "articulated" buses on order to be equipped with wheelchair lifts, and have filed a lawsuit to force the issue. Articulated buses aren't suitable for conversion to wheelchair accessibility, according to RTD spokesman Kathy Joyce. Since they can carry more passengers and travel at higher speeds - their articulated (bendable) design allows them to take corners faster - they are intended for use on heavily traveled express routes. Joyce estimates it takes 5 to 7 minutes to load a passenger in a wheelchair, and another 5 to 7 minutes for unloading - delays which RTD considers unacceptable in a high-speed, efficient transportation system. FOR STEVE SAUNDERS, the issues go beyond personal convenience and articulated buses. Saunders, 31, also has cerebral palsy. He lives alone in a Capitol Hill apartment and works at HAIL. Saunders, along with other demonstrators assembled in RTD offices a few months ago, protested the board's decision to order the articulated buses without wheelchair lifts. Demonstrators blocked stairways and chained themselves to doors, to dramatize their point they said. Saunders was the only demonstrator to accept a summons from the police, an action which guaranteed a day in court. Last month he got his day, but had little opportunity to express his views, as the charges against him were dismissed. But, he said later he views the conflict as “a clear human rights issue. What we're demanding is equal access to public transportation, just like everybody else." Many bus drivers and able-bodied passengers seem skeptical about this view of the situation. While all sides in the dispute agree that so far public reaction to the wheelchair-accessible buses has been positive, there seems to be some sentiment now that the activists have gone too far. Several drivers put it this way: "They keep saying they want to be treated like ordinary people, when the fact is they're not ordinary people and they'd better accept that." Attitudes like that are, said Wade Blank of the Atlantis Community, disturbingly reminiscent of earlier civil rights struggles. He calls Denver, "the Seima of the handicapped rights movement." Similar battles have been or are being waged in Los Angeles, St. Louis, Washington, D.C., and other cities across the country by the handicapped. The 90 percent accessible transportation in Seattle is lauded as proof of what can be done. Blank, who is able-bodied, thinks of himself as a "liberator," and contends the issue of full accessible public transportation is critical as disabled people across the nation organize and develop their power. RTD's Joyce, whose younger sister Heannie is disabled and a member of Atlantis, seems to echo this perspective when she says, "We feel that all this has less to do with RTD’s commitment to accessibility, which goes back a long way and hasn't changed, and less to do with articulated buses than with politics and economics." As corporations bring new money into Denver, she says, Atlantis and HAIL are moving to ensure that disabled citizens will be taken seriously. "They're making a statement," she says. "We understand that. But we can't allow it to change what we do." RTD, she says, is committed to making half of its entire system wheelchair-accessible by July of this year. ANOTHER POLITICAL FACTOR is RTD's first board election, to be held in November. Members of the disabled community are interviewing candidates to determine their willingness to support issues of concern to that constituency. HAlL's Saunders already has announced his candidacy. In other cities, much has been made of the low usage of wheelchair-accessible vehicles by the disabled. RTD's records indicate that of a total 160,000 rides per average day, disabled riders average between 90 and 260 per week. Neither RTD nor the disabled seem alarmed by this fact. Training, they agree, is the key. Saunders and others provide one-on-one training in bus riding to disabled passengers, and RTD trains both drivers and potential passengers. Both sides also seem willing to be patient with the equipment failures that plague any intricate mechanical apparatus. The issue ls complex, emotional and, for the disabled, very personal. Says Kathy Vincent, who can't travel anywhere on her own and has to rely completely on wheelchair-accessible buses: “l never was militant before. But now l don’t have any choice." - ADAPT (86)
Rocky Mountain News PHOTO, News Photo by Jose R. Lopez: A thin woman [Theresa Preda] with dark hair and a big smile stands facing a man [LA Kimball] sitting at a "classroom style" conference table. He has a sickly smile on his face as he looks up at her. Between the tables and beside the woman is a manual wheelchair and she is pointing to it. It appears a man in another wheelchair [Mark Johnson] is pushing the wheelchair toward Teresa. At the table next to Kimball another man, also a presenter, who does not appear to have a disability, stares at Kimball with a slightly startled look on his face. Caption reads: Theresa Preda presents a wheelchair to RTD Executive Director LA. Kimball, right. Disabled riders' flap marks parley By JERRY BROWN News Staff Acting under a court order, Regional Transportation District officials and members of Denver's handicapped community met Wednesday to discuss their differences, but a longstanding argument among the handicapped over the type of bus service they want dominated the session. The 90-minute meeting at the Cosmopolitan Hotel opened with two organizations that have fought for accessible service on RTD’s regular routes presenting a wheelchair to RTD Executive Director L.A, Kimball and urging him to use it to learn firsthand the difficulties handicapped people experience in riding buses. Kimball pledged to use the wheelchair presented by Atlantis and Holistic Approaches to Independent Living, but told reporters: “l probably won't tell you in advance when I'm going to do it." The meeting was the result of a negotiated court order between RTD and the two organizations stemming from a series of demonstrations the organizations staged at RTD buildings in January. Atlantis and HAIL were protesting the transit agency's decision not to put wheelchair lifts on 89 buses scheduled for delivery next year. They have filed a lawsuit in Denver District Court in an attempt to force RTD to put lifts on the buses. But more than half of the l00 or so handicapped people attending the meeting indicated they believed RTD should focus its efforts on the door-to-door service that RTD has provided the handicapped for more than five years — not the accessible service on regular routes advocated by Atlantis and HAIL. Kimball drew cheers when he announced that the door-to-door service, known as Handi-Ride, would not be discontinued this summer as planned. " Kimball said the door-to-door service would continue until sometime next year, and suggested that the handicapped groups present join in a regional effort to devise a system under which someone else would provide the door-to-door service when RTD ends it. RTD began providing wheelchair-accessible service on some regular routes last summer and has promised to have half of its peak-hour service and virtually all of its off peak service wheelchair accessible by July 1. Saying RTD cannot afford to provide both types of accessible service, RTD officials had said they would discontinue the HandiRide service after July 1. The threatened loss of HandiRide service has created a split within the handicapped community, which dominated Wednesday's meeting. Spokesmen for Atlantis and HAIL said they believe both types of service are necessary, and promised to fight any efforts by RTD to discontinue the HandiRide. They accused RTD of using the HandiRide to create dissension among their ranks and “stacking” the audience by sending invitations to HandiRide patrons. But Atlantis spokesman Wade Blank said: "In a way RTD did us a favor." Blank said the meeting would help open communications between the two handicapped factions. - ADAPT (628)
Edition USA/Colorado ADAPT seeks home care for all by Kerri S. Smith A national disabled persons’ advocacy organization based in Denver has launched a campaign aimed at moving people from nursing homes to home care. American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT) has at short-term goal: to re-direct 25 percent on the government's annual nursing home care budget. That money—estimated at $5.5 billion federal money and $5.5 billion from state coffers-would fund a national home care program instead. Under the ADAPT proposal, nursing home residents whose care is covered by Medicare or Medicaid could live at home. The government would pay home are attendants to care for them, rather than paying the facility. ADAPT spokesperson Mike Auberger said the group seeks “the ultimate demise of the nursing home system," and contends that paying an attendant to provide home care for a person usually costs less than nursing home care. In theory, the ADAPT plan would spend government money more efficiently-the same money would be used to care for more people who need assistance. The government is not enthusiastic about the idea, and a local nursing home industry spokesperson said ADAPT's demands are unrealistic. Auberger said Health and Human Services secretary Louis Sullivan declined to meet with ADAPT representatives. "We've been going back and forth with them, and the outcome is he doesn't meet with radical groups," Auberger said. And Arlene Linton, executive director of the Colorado Health Care Association (CHCA), said moving nursing home residents out of facilities “would isolate many of them from the community. “They'd also be without the 24-hour-care and rehabilitative services provided in nursing homes," Linton said. CHCA is the local branch of the American Health Care Association, which represents the nursing home industry. Linton added that ADAPT "is talking dollars, not people. Some residents have outlived their family and friends, and need the support a nursing home offers." A national campaign to publicize ADAPT's proposal began Jan. 15. Members demonstrated at government offices (including Health Care Financing Administration offices) and nursing homes in 24 cities. Auberger said media coverage was minimal, due to the Persian Gulf Crisis. Locally, ADAPT representatives demonstrated in Lakewood at Bethany Care Center. In the mid-'70s, the facility was operated by different owners and was known as Heritage House. Conditions at that time sparked a 13-year lawsuit over nursing home residents’ rights. The Federal Omnibus Reconciliation Act (OBRA) of 1988 also addressed quality of life issues for nursing home residents. The bill became effective Oct. 1, 1990. ln 1974, former Heritage House residents joined with Denverite Wade Blank and others to form the Atlantis Community, a local home care agency that currently cares for 135 people in Denver and Colorado Springs. Later, Atlantis Community leaders founded ADAPT. The group mobilized the civil rights movement for disabled persons, and ultimately affected the way nursing homes are inspected and regulated nationally. Auberger claims many current nursing home patients don't require intensive medical care, and "end up there only because they're out of money or their families can't care for them." Linton said CHCA met with ADAPT representatives twice to discuss the attendant proposal, "but they rejected our request to form a task force to find common ground." While Linton endorses home care as “a part of the long-term care continuum," she called the ADAPT proposal “robbing Peter to pay Paul. "We cannot support the concept of lowering funding for nursing home patients, to set up another funding to attendant services," Linton said. “We need new, additional funding for that." Recent federal budget cuts may make additional funding unlikely, at least in the near future. Atlantis and ADAPT are determined, however, and they are prepared for a long campaign. - ADAPT (47)
Rocky Mountain News March 26, 1977 News PHOTO by John Gordon: A small person (Mary Cisneros) with apparently no legs is seen from the back in wheelchair, wheeling through an empty lot. In the background is a clothes line with clothes hanging out to dry. [Headline] The beginning of a quiet war Once destined to spend her life in state institutions, Mary Cisneros, 25, is starting over. She lives in a Denver apartment and plans to become a tutor for the blind. Here, she's shown at the Atlantis Community, where she and others have found new hope. Atlantis is working on behalf of the disabled. Handicapped starting a 'quiet revolution' continued from.... ,,, the first time. For others, it means learning how to read and write. Mrs. Sue Sutherland, 23, is one of two women who tutor the Atlantis residents, using a special teaching machine developed by a University of Colorado professor. A staff of 27 persons, including some who were themselves rescued from institutional settings, provides attendant care. Their pay comes from the state and county attendant allowances of up to $217 per month to which many in Atlantis are entitled by law. A HOTLINE CONNECTS the housing units and the apartments of those no longer at Las Casitas, so residents can seek help quickly in emergencies. The job of manning the line is one of many tasks performed by the residents. Each is paid $50 a month, a figure arrived at because anything higher would oblige the recipients to involve themselves in red tape - and, in many cases, to lose the welfare payments they now receive. Most residents draw $184 a month in public assistance, most of it coming in the form of federal "SSI" payments. The rest comes from the state. From this, they pay $101 for room and board. Blank is the highest paid staff member. He gets about $8,000 a year from a combination of state and private grants. This leaves him eligible for food stamps. Administrator Mary Penland "gets paid when we can scrounge it up," and Kopp - who lives in Blank's house and has bought a third of it - hasn't been paid a dime of salary during his two years as co-director. Needless to say, Atlantis has made waves. lt has clashed with doctors who insist that the place for severely disabled persons is in an institution. And it has fought with those label people as "mentally retarded," saying the phrase is largely meaningless. "WE TOTALLY REFUSE to use that label here." says Blank. “We don't think the term is applicable to most young people. If they're retarded, it's socially retarded." Blank bubbles with excitement at the success stories of the people around him - those he proudly describes as “my circle of friends. “ And their affection for him is equally visible. There is Gary Van Lake. a 24-year-old Wyoming native who broke his neck in a 1973 car crash. Wyoming rehabilitation officials insisted he had no hope of returning to a normal life. "They told me I had reached my potential," he recalls. Coming to Denver to attend college, he wound up in a nursing home. Atlantis got him out and helped him get into Craig Hospital where he learned anew how to do things like go to the bathroom and drive a car. Now he has a specially equipped van, complete with an elevator for his electric wheelchair, and is engaged to marry in May. An outsider, viewing the rundown setting and the severity of the residents' physical problems, has to rely on their words and smiles to know how much their lives have improved. ONE TESTIMONIAL came from John Folks, 21, who has been paralyzed from the neck down since he was shot in June 1972. He breathes through a tube in his throat and uses a specially equipped telephone with a loudspeaker and a switch that he can trigger by moving his head to one side. Soon after Blank told how Folks had joined other Atlantis residents on a camping trip last summer. Folks explained how he felt about leaving the nursing home in which he lived for nine months before he came to Atlantis: “It's just like getting out of prison. lt is like starting over again. " Acknowledging that he and others at Atlantis “are somewhat egotistical" in their boasts of success, he adds: "We have to be to survive." But he also contends that the boasts are well-founded. For one thing, he notes, Atlantis has caught President Carter's fancy and could play a role in Carter's upcoming plans to revamp the welfare system. Last summer, when candidate Carter passed through Denver on the campaign trail, he met briefly with Atlantis officials. This week, two HEW aides from Washington came to Denver for a briefing on what Atlantis is doing. And a thick report, put together by Atlantis with an $82,500 federal grant, will go to Washington as Colorado's minority report at the White House Conference on Handicapped Individuals. The May event, planned when Gerald Ford was still president, is the first of its kind. lt is expected to set the stage for significant action by Congress to aid the nation's disabled citizens. The money for the Atlantis reports which was unveiled in February, came as a belated response to the original efforts of Blank and Kopp to get enough money so they could build Atlantis from the ground up. When the money came through in 1976, they knew it wouldn't be enough to get them out of Las Casitas. But they saw the value of a comprehensive report about the need of the disabled. ITS CONCLUSIONS are clear and blunt. Blunt as Wade Blanks words when he describes why Atlantis has the potential to be seen us model for the nation. “Our critics say all we have to offer is the slums," he noted a couple of days ago. "Yet 55 people are on our waiting list." "I think the nursing homes are going to have to start watching their words because the waiting list indicates, in essence, that these people would rather live in a slum than in a nursing home " NEXT: “We are demanding our rights." - ADAPT (290)
[This page continues the article from Image 297. Full text available under 297 for easier reading.] - ADAPT (95)
Rocky Mountain News, Fri., Sept. 2, 1977, Denver, Colo p.6 [Headline] Handicapped seek ruling on RTD service By CLAIRE COOPER News Staff Wheelchair-bound witnesses Thursday urged a federal judge to order the Regional Transportation District to equip new buses with devices to facilitate transportation of the disabled. RTD has 231 buses on order. Only 18 of them will be outfitted for passengers in wheelchairs. Handicapped and elderly plaintiffs have filed a lawsuit in Denver U.S. District Court claiming RTD will discriminate against them if it fails to provide them with suitable bus transportation. The plaintiffs have asked that the buses be equipped with boarding ramps or hydraulic lifts and with interior devices to hold wheelchairs in place. During the hearing before Judge Richard P. Matsch, an arthritic youth complained that he faces “social isolation“ because of lack of transportation. ROBERT CONRAD SAID. “lf l don‘t get out, l’ll go crazy. I don't like looking at four walls." Conrad said it’s often impossible for him to board regular buses because oi‘ the pain in his legs. When he can do it, he said, he suffers embarrassment because it takes him three minutes to negotiate the steps. Other witnesses also complained about the social and psychological consequences of being unable to use the public transportation system. Glenn Kopp said he feels like “a second-class citizen.” Kopp is co-director of Atlantis Community Inc., an organization of disabled persons. His job is to help the handicapped become self-sufficient. But for Kopp to go to work, he said, "I have to depend on somebody to pick me up.” Carolyn Finnell said, “I just don't like using people as tools" for transportation. Marilyn Weaver said the lack of transportation isolates her from" her friends and her parents. "They do come to see me, but it would be nice sometime to go home," she said. Ms. Weaver and others testified that economic burdens are forced on them by the necessity of hiring private transportation. Ms. Weaver said she spends about $120 a month, one-fifth of her income, for “ambocabs," a private taxi service for passengers in wheelchairs. Ambocab charges $18 for a round trip, Kopp said. Ms. Weaver claimed the high cost deters all but essential use. “I should be getting therapy more than I do,“ said the 38-year-old polio victim, adding that her financial situation determines whether she can afford transportation to her therapist. SEVERAL WITNESSES said confinement to their neighborhoods means they have to pay more for groceries and other necessities. Kopp said he doesn’t like to ask friends to take him shopping because it takes along time him to go through the stores. The witnesses said RTD’s HandiRide service for the disabled isn't a good solution to their transportation problems because it makes only scheduled stops at medical facilities, schools and places of employment. Ms. Weaver, who works at Atlantis, said she takes the HandiRide to work because she starts at a set time. But she has no set quitting time, so she can't take it home. According to the complaint, HandiRide serves fewer than 150 persons. The complaint says about 17,600 persons in the Denver-Boulder area are being denied public transportation because of "unnecessary physical and structural barriers in the design of transit buses." Lawyers representing RTD have not presented defense testimony. The hearing continues Friday. - ADAPT (79)
Rocky Mountain News Tues., Nov. 6, 1979, Denver, Colo Photo by Steve Groer, News: A woman in a parka stands, smiling, holding the push handles of another woman's wheelchair. The woman in the wheelchair is facing the camera and smiling, eyes closed, a polite face. She's about eye level to the woman standing behind her because she is on a lift getting into a van. Caption reads: Pam Mellon helps Sonja Kerr into her van at Atlantis. [Headline] For some, just getting to job is an obstacle EDITOR'S NOTE‘: Nearly three fourths of Denver's 700,000-plus commuters drive to work alone by car. This is the latest in a series of stories about those who don't. By JERRY BROWN News Staff Paul and Jan Stewart almost lost their jobs with a local life insurance company after someone stole their car three weeks ago, leaving them with no way to get to work. Attorney Les Berkowitz owns a specially equipped car and hires a driver for his commuting and work-related travel. He estimates the special arrangements add $350 to his monthly commuting expenses. Sonja Kerr lives 3 1/2 blocks from the stop where she catches her bus to work. But she has to travel an extra two blocks to get there because of obstacles along the way. Mel Conrardy shells out $11 for each of his thrice-weekly Amb-O-cab trips to and from work. For the Stewarts, Berkowitz, Kerr and Conrardy, physical handicaps complicate their efforts to get to and from work — and restrict their commuting options. There‘s just no transportation for the handicapped if you don't have your own vehicle,” said Jan Stewart, whose husband is a paraplegic. As a result, Mrs. Stewart said, she and her husband "were in pretty desperate straits" when their car was stolen. "We don't have any money," she said. “We couldn't rent a car." Taking a bus to work was out of the question, she said, because they don't live close enough to the bus routes on which service for the handicapped is provided, and regular buses aren't equipped to handle Mr. Stewart’s wheelchair. And Amb-0-Cab, which provides door-to-door pick up and delivery service for the handicapped, was too expensive - $17 per round trip. The state Commission on the Disabled provide the Stewarts with transportation to work for two weeks. “They were very nice, but it was helter-skelter," Mrs. Stewart said. “They only have one driver and one van. Some mornings they would get us there (work) at 9 a.m., sometimes at 10:30." That didn't make their employer too happy, Mrs. Stewart said. Particularly since the Stewarts were supposed to be at work by 8 a.m. And the commission's driver quit at 4:30 p.m., leaving the Stewarts without transportation home. They turned to “friends, my boss and anybody else kind enough to give us a ride," Mrs Stewart said. “There were a lot of tears, a lot of frustration and a lot of worry" until they scraped together the money to buy an old used car, she said. The transportation problems of the physically handicapped are "all easily solvable if all you have is money," said Berkowitz, who maintains an active law practice despite being confined to a wheelchair and having only limited use of his arms “Unfortunately, I don't have that much." “Transportation is a difficult and an expensive proposition," he added. “But regardless of the negatives, the handicapped do what they have to do. It's not an insurmountable problem. If someone wants to do it, they can do it." But others within the handicapped community say the lack of cheap, dependable transportation for the handicapped prevents many of the estimated 6,000 to 8,000 Denver area residents confined to wheelchairs from being able to work. RTD offers limited service for the handicapped — three fixed routes and door-to-door service by subscription only — but doesn't expect to make its regular bus service accessible to the handicapped until 1982. Accessible bus service will enable many handicapped persons to find jobs who simply have no way to get to work today, according to spokesmen for the Atlantis Community, which has led the fight for accessible buses in Denver. Kerr, who works for Atlantis, uses RTD’s existing fixed-route service for the handicapped to get to work several days a week. She also owns a lift-equipped van — bought for her by her uncle — and sometimes rides to work in it with her roommate who drives. Kerr’s roommate plans to move, however, and Kerr said she doesn't think her reflexes are good enough for her to drive the van herself in Denver traffic. By trial and error, Kerr has found a route between her home and her bus stop. But she can't ride the bus in bad weather or when there is snow or ice on the ground. And if she misses her bus -— or fails to make a transfer connection downtown -- she has to wait two hours for the next bus. Conrardy also works at Atlantis, three days a week. But he lives with his mother and doesn't work to support himself, so the $11-a-day commuting expenses are something he can live with. “lt gives me something to do, Conrardy said of his part-time duties for Atlantis. - ADAPT (1)
[This continues on ADAPT 2 and 3, but the entire text has been included here in ADAPT 1 for easier reading.] [letterhead] Atlantis Community Inc 2965 west 11th avenue denver colo 80204 303 893 8040 [Headline] The Atlantis Story In June of 1975, Atlantis was born as an alternative to the lives that young disabled persons were being forced to endure in nursing homes and state institutions. Early in 1974, a group of concerned disabled people and able-bodied allies began educating themselves to the plight of the young disabled adult. They found that the majority of these young people (some as young as twelve) who were living in nursing homes were virtually trapped in a stagnating, paternalistic prison where civil rights were blatantly violated, medical care was poor and impersonal, and individual initiative and self actualization were hostilely discouraged. The group that later became Atlantis began looking for alternatives to the prejudiced, dehumanizing lives these young people were seemingly doomed to continue. The first attempt was to create a special youth program in a nursing home, the object of which was to provide normalizing educational and social experiences. The program was to a large degree successful in terms of individual liberation, but it soon became apparent that the humanistic goals of the Atlantis group were in direct conflict with the profit making motivation and paternalistic traditions of the nursing home industry. It was then that the Atlantis Early Action Project was conceived - early in 1975. The goals were clear: to allow every disabled individual, regardless of the extent of her/his disability, the same rights and responsibilities of their able bodied peers - the freedom to choose a lifestyle and fulfill personal goals in education, employment, and personal growth, and freedom from a punitive traditional system that stigmatizes the disabled and segregates them from the mainstream of society. The planning started in January of 1975. Public housing units were leased from the Denver Housing Authority in the Las Casitas Development. Funds from the Colorado Division of Vocational Rehabilitation were secured to renovate the apartments and make them accessible to wheelchairs. In June, the first eight residents moved in. All were former 'patients’ in nursing homes, all had the courage and the desire to live on the outside. In a little over two years, Atlantis has grown from eight residents and a volunteer staff to an attendant staff of forty individuals and forty participants/residents. Seventeen of the residents presently live in the Early Action site, which has become a transitional living center, the remainder live in private sector apartments throughout the city and receive services from Atlantis. Traditionally the young disabled person has been denied the right to an adequate education or meaningful employment and has been sent to nonaccredited, segregated ‘special’ schools or to sheltered workshops to count fish hooks or untangle old phone cords for five cents an hour. Those who reside in nursing homes are often provided with no programming at all. At Atlantis, we try to assist the individual in fulfilling whatever goals s/he outlines. At the present time, residents are attending Denver Opportunity School, Boettcher School, and several of the area colleges. In addition, a constitutional law suit has been initiated by an Atlantis resident in an attempt to change existing laws which deny equal educational opportunities to the disabled. With funds from the Denver Opportunity School, Atlantis operates an Adult Education Center which offers individualized courses in remedial basic skills, speech therapy, and Braille. In an employment and basic life enrichment program financed by the Colorado Division of Vocational Rehabilitation, Atlantis provides a variety of employment opportunities to disabled persons and seeks out employment possibilities in the Denver-Metro area. In keeping with the Atlantis Charter, fifty percent of all positions at Atlantis are occupied by disabled individuals. Our experience has shown that merely providing housing and attendant services does not fully equip the disabled person coming out of an institution to lead an independent, self-directed life. For this reason, special programs have been initiated to aid residents in acquiring the skills necessary to take responsibility for their own lives. Home Training Classes, where residents meet in seminars and share ideas and skills, are held to teach how to organize and maintain an apartment. A Consumer Advocate teaches residents how to perform their own consumer activities such as budgeting money, using a checking account, and buying food and clothing. Other advocacy services available include a twenty four hour a day Crisis Hotline, a Financial Coordinator who assists individuals in getting their public assistance benefits, a Housing Information Service, a Legal Advocacy Service, and a Counseling Referral Service. Disabled persons are not 'sick' people. They do not require a 24 hour a day medical staff of nurses and aides to supervise their personal needs and social activities. What is needed is a consistent source of reliable assistance when they want it. In an attempt to break the traditional concept of home health care - Atlantis hires a pool of professionals who are trained and supervised by a Rehabilitation R.N. Attendant assistance is scheduled as it fits into individual routines and responds to individualized needs. Emphasis in health care is on teaching people to monitor their own - to be aware of their particular needs and be capable of getting those needs filled either self—sufficiently or with assistance. Staff is available on a twenty four hour a day basis in case an emergency arises, and can be reached by a call to the Crisis Hotline. The resident is responsible for scheduling baths, meals, etc. There are no rules governing any individual's mobility or social life. We uphold the right of the disabled to take responsible control over their own lives. Disabled people do have special medical needs. Nurses, attendants and physicians who work with them should have this specialized knowledge. The Atlantis attendant staff is trained in areas of special health concern such as skin, bladder and bowel care, and routine medical needs. Atlantis makes full use of existing medical facilities, primarily the Denver General Health System. We are oriented toward rehabilitative activities and any person who has the desire for rehabilitation is given the opportunity to explore it. Many who were diagnosed at an early age as unrehabilitatable have shown tremendous progress when allowed access to therapists and equipment. It is our belief that any disabled person should have the right to choose where and how s/he wants to live. We believe that the same monies that are provided to house someone in an institution should be made available to those who wish to live independently. We are working to this end. At the present time, an institution in Colorado receives upwards of $600.00 a month in tax money to provide custodial care for a ‘patient’. That same person, once out of an institution, is eligible for maximum public assistance Payments of $402.00 a month to support her/himself and purchase attendant services. Many receive less than the full amount. We can find no valid justification for this huge discrepancy which results in the taxpayer supporting the highly lucrative nursing home industry and discourages the disabled and elderly from pursuing independent and meaningful lives. Our philosophy envelopes the ideas of individual liberty and opportunity, and we are aware of the process that must take place. Liberation from the stagnation of institutional life needs to be coupled with a viable process by which disabled persons can integrate themselves into society as self-fulfilled, independent citizens. It is our hope at Atlantis that by bringing disabled persons together, they can, through shared energy and experience, teach and support each other in achieving freedom and growth. - ADAPT (1764)
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. - ADAPT (38)
The Denver Post, Thurs. Dec.11, 1975 p.57 PHOTO (Denver Post Photo): A man (Michael Smith) lies in his bed, wrapped in his sheets. He looks soulfully up at another person leaning over him. Caption reads: Mike Smith when he was confined to bed. Despite ravages of illness, he was able to write. Mike's Postcript: Poems in Print Michael Smith of Denver, a 21-year-old victim of muscular dystrophy, held firmly to the dream that one day a book of his poems would be published. That dream was realized this week — about 2.5 months after Mike died at the place he called home, the Atlantis Community for the handicapped in Denver. At that time, a manuscript of Mike’s poems was being circulated to publishers. The poems were written during Mike’s last seven years, when he was living in nursing homes and was unable to lift pen to paper but dictated the poems to friends. A copy of the manuscript of his poems was cradled in Mike’s arms at his funeral and later when he was cremated. Afterward, it was determined that the poems would be published privately, with all profits- after printing and selling costs- going to the Atlantis Community. Mike’s book, titled "Companions" was published Monday and is available at bookstores and in book sections at department stores in downtown Denver and outlying areas, as well as at the Colorado University Extension Center and Metropolitan State College Bookstores. Mike lived long enough to hear the tribute paid to his poems by Thomas Hornsby Ferril of Denver, who recently was named Colorado's Centennial poet. Some of the perceptions and imagery in the poems are "near genius," Ferril said after reading the manuscript. Mike's book contains 32 poems, many of which are dedicated to Mike's companions- the handicapped persons he had known in nursing homes and later at Atlantis. In his last months, Mike progressively weakened and was confined to bed, depending to a great extent on an oxygen tank to ease his breathing. Despite the ravages of his illness, Mike was able to write affirmatively: "Our there in the blackness is a porthole that reaches into the worlds of brilliant light. There are souls there whose beauty reaches beyond any mortal eye " And vowing to go beyond this, Mike wrote: "like an arrow shot from a mighty bow, I shall fly into the heart of the most holy of holies.. Home is where I'll be." - ADAPT (39)
The Sunday Denver Post, Feb. 29, 1976 PHOTO (Denver Post photo): A woman (Nancy Anderson) in a striped shirt, baggy pants and glasses smiles radiantly as she stands, slightly crouching, in a metal walker type device. Beside her another woman in white coat and dark clothes stands and steadies Nancy. Caption reads: Nancy Anderson struggles to walk with aid of platform [text is cut off]. Jennifer Forry helps in physical therapy section of Denver General. [Headline] 10 Prime Years Lost [Subheading] Nancy Steps Onto Road Back by Fred Gillies [this story continues in ADAPT 40, but the entire story is included here for easier reading.] Nancy Anderson is on the long road back toward reclaiming 10 lost years. For Nancy, as for most persons, these should have been the prime years-the time between her 21st and 31st birthdays. But during this time, Nancy "just sat“ in Denver-area nursing homes, unable to talk or walk, her body partially paralyzed after surgery to remove a brain tumor. At the nursing homes, Nancy received little or no therapy. And through disuse, the muscles of her hips and knees contracted, or shortened. In one of these homes, where Nancy stayed for almost nine years, she generally was the only young person in the midst of residents mainly in their 60's or older. At the time, doctors viewed Nancy‘s case bleakly, saying she would be confined to nursing homes for the rest of her life and would never walk again. But last week, Nancy cried out in pain and exultation as she took about 15 steps with the aid of a specially equipped platform walking device. And she has started talking — although she speaks only two words so far: "fine" and "no." This is a marked contrast to the baby sounds and squealing noises that were Nancy's only form of communication for about 10 years. "Nancy is the most determined patient I've ever seen," said Jennifer Forry, a physical therapist who has been assisting Nancy in therapy sessions at Denver General Hospital since last September. Nancy stared using the walker last October. But before Christmas, she underwent surgery to loosen muscles in her paralyzed right hip. Now she is learning to use the walker all over again. The turning point for Nancy, now 31, came last July when she was accepted as a resident at Denver's Atlantis Community, an experiment in apartment living for the handicapped. At Atlantis, the handicapped are encouraged to live as normal a life as possible and to work toward realizing their potential. For Nancy, this opportunity came when Atlantis workers asked her what she wanted to do most. Through repeated tapping of her leg, Nancy indicated she wanted to stand and walk. Soon afterward, Atlantis workers arranged the therapy sessions for her at the hospital. "When I first saw Nancy last September," Miss Forry said, "I thought there is no way for her to walk-her muscles had been contracted for so long. "But Nancy was so determined that I promised her we would have therapy sessions for a month and see if there was any progress. At those therapy sessions, Miss Forry said, "I stretched and pulled Nancy's legs and she screamed. After about a month, I felt we weren‘t doing much." But at one of those sessions, Nancy pushed herself over to the parallel bars. Using the bars and Miss Forry to steady herself, Nancy "hopped along" a short length between the bars. At about this time, a private physician said walking “was not a realistic goal" to set tor Nancy. However, in mid-October, Miss Forry started Nancy on the platform walker. The device has been specially equipped with an extension on which Nancy can rest her paralyzed right arm, using her good left arm to lift the walker. By early December, Nancy was walking for more than 250 feet with the aid of the platform walker. Last Dec. 15, surgery was successfully performed to relieve the contracture in Nancy's right hip. For the following six weeks. Nancy was in a half-body cast and "she had a lot of pain" when she recently returned to therapy. Early last week, Nancy walked with the platform Walker for the first time since the surgery. "She's still weak and trying to get some of her strength back," Miss Furry said, noting that Nancy took only about 15 steps. Seeing Nancy use the walker is rewarding. Miss Furry said, because several years ago a physical therapy department at another hospital said Nancy couldn't walk again—even with a walker. Back in her apartment at Atlantis, Nancy moves around easily in her wheelchair. For visitors, Nancy sometimes brings out the yearbook she helped edit for her 1962 graduating class at the small Cotton, Minn. High School. Paging through the yearbook, Nancy points out her photograph among those of her 24 classmates. And Nancy stops at the page bearing the school’s motto, and the fingers of her good right hand rest for a moment under the printed words: “Climb far—your goal the sky, your aim a star.“ - ADAPT (1789)
The Handicapped Coloradan / Page 15 & 16 [This article continues in ADAPT 1786, but has been completely included here for easier reading.] Title: "If heaven isn't accessible God had better Watch out!" Photo: Waist up picture of Wade Blank with his below shoulder length blonde hair and round tinted glasses. He is smiling and wearing a vest. Caption reads: Wade Blank ADAPT founder dies in Mexico. Wade Blank went down to Baja, California, in February and drowned there trying to save his eight year old son Lincoln. He was there vacationing with his family. The money for the trip came from Wade’s share of a legal settlement in San Francisco when bad guys violated the civil rights of ADAPT demonstrators. He couldn't afford that kind of trip on his own. He never made more than $16,000 in his life. Lincoln was in the water swimming. An undertow got him and Wade went in after him. He had to know there was very little chance either one would survive. Some fisherman from a nearby village fished Wade’ s body from the water. His wife Molly brought his body home and they covered the coffin with an American flag. Only the stars on this flag formed a wheelchair. Lincoln’s body was never recovered. A few days before he left on that vacation, I told him to skip Baja and its treacherous waters for the calmer seas off Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. Wade said he’d think about it but we both knew he wouldn’t alter his plans. Wade Blank liked to be where the action was. Many of the 1100 people who filled the ballroom at the Radisson Hotel on Sunday, Feb. 21, to say goodbye to their fallen comrade had accompanied him into battle. “If heaven isn’t accessible,” one of them warned, “God better watch out!” Wade founded the Atlantis Community in 1975 when he helped several disabled people move out of a nursing home and into their own apartments. Then he went on to help organize protests against RTD for not having wheelchairs lifts on its buses, a move that later led to the creation of ADAPT, which then stood for American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (“The hard part is getting the acronym right,” he told me at the time.) I asked Tom Olin who was going to replace Wade. “No one,” he said. “Wade was into empowering disabled people. It’s a tribute to him that we’ll just keep on going.” Maybe. But it won’t be the same. People like Wade Blank don't come along very often. A writer for Westward once called Wade the nearest thing to a saint he had ever met. But Wade wasn’t perfect. After all, he was a Cleveland Browns’ fan. He had it so bad that on game day he’d call home to his folks in Ohio and have them put the phone next to the radio. He was president of the Cleveland Browns Fans in Exile Club. A small part of him died when Elway found Jackson in the end zone in the 1987 AFC Championship game. He was a devoted father who had a vasectomy reversed after he married Molly. He called me soon after the operation and bitched about having to lie still to prevent the tubes from severing again. It was the only time I knew him to stay still. The time spent was worth it. He loved Lincoln and Caitlan just as he loved Heather, his adopted daughter. He instilled in them special values. A neighbor recalled a time when she came home and observed Lincoln in front of his house directing some other kids. They weren't playing cowboy and Indian or war or any of the usual childhood games. They were playing rally. “All right,” Lincoln said. “United we stand, never apart.” Wade was a Presbyterian minister whose language would make a coal miner blush. I quoted him a lot on these pages over the past ten years or so but I never quoted him accurately. He used four letter words the way other people use punctuation. Someone made a TV movie about the events at Heritage Nursing Home and Wade said it was close to the truth. But the actor who played Wade didn’t quite capture his style. Wade wore his hair long and looked a little like a construction worker who took a wrong tum back in the 1960s. He once asked me if I wore ties. “I own one,” I said. “It keeps my sleeping bag rolled up.” He liked that. He hated ties. At the memorial service, those few men who showed up wearing ties were asked to remove them—out of respect. By then I owned a real tie. You can‘t go to a funeral in my small hometown without one. I left it at home for Wade. He didn’t have the eloquence of a Martin Luther King. He didn't need it. He wasn’t interested in grabbing the spotlight for himself. He taught his friends that their wheelchairs were a weapon and if they used them right, the whole world would take notice. RTD took notice. Denver became one of the first cities in the U.S. to adopt accessible public transit. Wade helped carry that message to countless other cities. He showed people how they could make a statement by going to jail and then he went out and raised the bail money. Eventually, in a parking lot in Atlanta, the feds gave in. Accessible public transit would be the law of the land. Wade wasn’t about to rest on his laurels. He turned his attention to an earlier cause. ADAPT changed the acronym to American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today and took on the nursing home industry. Wade knew that the disabled warriors who took on the federal government over accessible transit and got themselves arrested scores of times were strong enough to live in their own homes. He vowed to force the federal government to take money away from the nursing homes and make that dream a reality. That battle goes on. His friends at ADAPT are planning a memorial service in his honor in Washington, D.C. this May. At the same time, they’re going to make sure Bill Clinton honors his promises to provide funds for such attendant care. It's a fitting memorial but you can find plenty of monuments to Wade Blank in this country. There one at every street comer where there’s a curb cut and one on every bus equipped with a lift. And every time someone who is exploited because of a physical disability raises a fist in defiance and fights for his or her freedom and humanity, you’ll see Wade’s image in their eyes and his dream in their hearts. So long, Wade. If it’s really heaven, there won’t be a dress code. Written by Tom Schantz - ADAPT (43)
The Denver Post - Thursday October 2, 1975 [Headline] Muscular Dystrophy Wins Battle [Subheading] Mike Died at Atlantis - a Dream Come True by Fred Gillies Michael Smith died Wednesday afternoon in the place where he wanted to be - the Atlantis Community in Denver. Atlantis was Mike's dream come true: a fledgling community where he and 13 other handicapped persons could live in dignity as individuals, attempting to realize their full potential. But the dream died Wednesday for Mike as muscular dystrophy, the dark angel that lived with him for most of his slightly more than 21 years, won the final battle. Mike and other Atlantis residents came into the public view late in June when a Denver Post story told of the hardships they were suffering as the result of bureaucratic bungling which had delayed the Social Security checks the Atlantis residents needed to pay their living expenses there. At that time, Mike was semiconscious and not expected to live. But he later rallied, as he had three other times in the past year when he was close to death. For the past three months, Mike generally had been confined to his bed and most of the time used an oxygen tank to ease his breathing. In recent weeks, Mike had started composing poetry again — one of his favorite pastimes and the one that seemed to allow, him to escape from the physical helplessness forced upon him by muscular dystrophy. Mike also was following closely the progress of a legal action that he and other handicapped persons had filed in Denver federal court to ensure the handicapped the same rights as all other persons. And with the help of Atlantis staff members, Mike was planning his first vacation in many years: a plane trip to Houston, Texas. Two of the Atlantis staff were to accompany him there. But last Sunday night, Mike's condition suddenly worsened. His kidneys apparently had started to shut down. Carbon dioxide was building up in his body, affecting the brain and causing respiratory problems. Mike was taken Monday to Denver General Hospital, where blood tests were completed. But Atlantis officials said doctors at the hospital concluded that there wasn't much that could be done. And Mike was adamant: he didn't want to undergo another operation to cut into his windpipe to ease his breathing just a little longer. He didn’t want to be hooked up to all kinds of machines and medical equipment. He wanted to be left alone and to he allowed to die in peace and at Atlantis. Mike was permitted to "come home" to Atlantis on Tuesday. But now he was required to wear a full face mask utilizing a nebulizer which sprayed a mixture of oxygen and water steadily into his weakening lungs. On Wednesday morning, Mike twice had been taken off the nebulizer briefly while adjustments were made, and there were no complications, Wade Blank, Atlantis co-director said. But Wednesday afternoon, after the nebulizer had been removed for another swift adjustment, Mike died. “He relaxed, went to sleep and just stopped breathing," said his mother, Mrs. Joanne Davis of Central City, Colo., who was with him. Mike’s mother will fulfill his wish that the only flowers at his funeral be one red rose which she will provide and keep afterward. Mike also had asked that persons planning to send flowers for his funeral might instead send donations to Atlantis at 2965 W. 11th Ave. Early last July, Mike and a friend put together a book of about 35 of Mike's poems, written over the past seven years. At the time of Mike's death, the manuscript still was being circulated among publishers. One of these poems - “With the Wind, I Leave" - tells of Mike’s leaving his love, “leaving the oceans, fields and mountains that were my life.” But then he tells of finding "a peace and wisdom that no one can take away.” And the poem concludes with Mike's quiet admonition: "So when you remember me, think of the oceans, fields and mountains. Think of the wind that blows in the spring and you will know that I am free." Services for Mike will be at 2 p.m. Saturday at the Olinger Mortuary, 16th and Boulder Sts. A copy of Mike's book of poems will be with him when he is cremated, as he had wished. Denver Post PHOTO: A thin young man (Mike Smith) lies in bed wrapped in sheets. His long dark hair is laid out on the pillow above his head, and his dark eyebrows, beard and moustache frame his features. He looks with a burning intensity up and someone (mostly out of the picture), who is holding a book. Caption reads: Mike Smith Listens as His Poetry is Read. He was photographed in June after moving to Atlantis. - ADAPT (82)
PHOTO, News Photo by Steve Groer: A view from above down into a room filled with people, most in wheelchairs, sitting in a rough circle with one person in the middle. Next to that person is a desk with typewriter and paperwork on it. Caption reads: Members of Atlantis Community stage protest at RTD headquarters. Handicapped protest lift vote RTD’s rescission of plan assailed By JERRY BROWN News Staff About two dozen handicapped people, most of them in wheelchairs, staged a two-hour sit-in at the Regional Transportation District’s executive offices Thursday after RTD’s directors voted to rescind plans to install wheelchair lifts on 89 articulated buses scheduled for delivery in 1983. The protestors, all from the Atlantis Community, agreed to leave, but only after: * RTD Executive Director L. A. Kimball and three board members promised they would try to arrange a meeting between the full board and Atlantis members unhappy with Thursday’s vote, with the possibility that the board will reconsider its vote. * Kimball agreed to delay implementing the decision to rescind the lift order until after the proposed meeting takes place, if possible. Before the compromise was reached, the Atlantis members said they were prepared to spend the night at the RTD office -- unless removed by the police. RTD official called police and Denver paramedics, and they waited in a nearby room, ready to remove the protesters if the negotiations failed. Co-director Wade Blank said Atlantis members are prepared to stage daily visits to Kimball’s office and take the issue to court if the board sticks by the decision not to buy lifts. Blank said Atlantis members also plan to stage demonstrations during Kimball's public appearances. Blank said Atlantis members say Kimball, who became RTD’s executive director Sept. 14, is the one who persuaded the board to rescind the order for the wheelchair lifts. Last spring, when RTD ordered the articulated buses federal regulations required that all new buses purchased with federal funds be equipped with wheelchair lifts. Eighty percent of the $2l.6 million purchase price of the buses, including the lifts, will come from federal funds. Eliminating the lifts would reduce the purchase price by $1.1 million, or $12,571 per bus, according to RTD. The regulations requiring wheelchair lifts on new buses were rescinded by the Department of Transportation in July, and Kimball said Thursday that eight of the nine other bus agencies who have ordered the articulated buses as part of a consortium that includes RTD have decided not to buy the lifts. Anticipating that the regulations might be rescinded or overturned in court, RTD and the other bus agencies included the wheelchair lifts as a revocable option in their order. RTD has until Nov.27 to cancel its order for the lifts without penalty. After that date, RTD would have to buy the lifts or pay a penalty to drop them from the manufacturer's specifications. More than 100 handicapped people or representatives from agencies providing services to the handicapped were present for the board vote, and more than 20 speakers argued against rescinding the lift order. With only 16 board members present and 11 votes required to rescind the lift order, it appeared at one point that the speakers had swayed enough board members to win their case. But the board voted 11-5 to revoke the order for the lifts, with chairman Lowell Hutson casting the deciding vote after he counted to see how many board members had voted on each side. The Atlantis members then left the board meeting room in the basement of RTD’s headquarters at 1325 S. Colorado Blvd. and occupied part of the building's fifth floor, where Kimball and other RTD executives have their offices. Nearly two hours later, Kimball and board members C. Thomas Bastien, Kathi Williams and Mary Duty came upstairs to negotiate an end to the demonstration. Atlantis, which has long advocated making all of RTD‘s buses accessible to the handicapped, staged a series of sit-ins and other demonstrations against RTD a few years ago because the agency wanted to provide separate service for the handicapped. Relations between the two organizations improved significantly two years ago after RTD agreed to make half of its peak-hour service accessible to the handicapped.