The Handicapped Coloradan
A newsmagazine of the disability rights movement

[This story continues in ADAPT 770, 759, 777, 769, 758 and 776 but the full text is included here for easier reading.]

Photo by Tom Olin: On a downtown city intersection, a huge line of protesters in wheelchairs and walking wraps around a city street corner, down the full length of the block and out of sight. Motorcycle policemen ride alongside at several points. On the corner and in the crosswalk pedestrians look on.


Title: ADAPT rolls into San Francisco

In October 1992 scores of ADAPT members staged demonstrations in San Francisco. One of those demonstrators, Laura Hershey, kept a diary of those events.

Six days in San Francisco

Special Report to The Handicapped Coloradan

What ADAPT has got, the thing that makes you difierent from other `groups`, is you realize that there's a war going on-—that people are dying, and locked up, and being tortured.
—Johnny Creschendo, British musician, poet, & disability-rights activist

The peaceable warriors of ADAPT took it to the streets of San Francisco this fall, protesting policies and institutions that limit freedom for people who are older or disabled. On Saturday, October 17, 300 members of the American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today (ADAPT) checked into the Ramada

Hotel Civic Center on Market Street. Five days and 162 arrests later, the group left town, having raised the stakes once again in the battle against compulsory nursing home placement.

ADAPT is demanding the creation of a national system of attendant services, to be available to anyone needing assistance to live independently, regardless of age, diagnosis, or geographical location. The funds for such a program, according to ADAPT, should come from diverting 25 percent of the federal money currently spent on institutionalizing people in nursing homes. This year, the federal nursing home budget is around $28 billion; ADAPT wants $7 billion transferred to in-home attendant services.

This plan is being opposed by nursing home owners, and lacks the support of the federal government. Both came under attack by ADAPT, as did the two major presidential campaigns. The following is
one participant‘s day-by-day report of the week’s events.

PHOTO by Tom Olin: A man in a power chair (Mike Auberger) faces off with a policeman who has his hands on Mike's knees. All around Mike and the police other ADAPT protesters are gathered, some listening and watching the two, others looking ahead.
Caption reads: Cops tug at demonstrator at Federal Center. Mike Auberger, one of the founders of ADAPT, meets up with San Francisco police.

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Saturday: Day One

Activists from the Bay Area hold a rally in Pioneer Square. Four of us, having arrived early with ADAPT’s advance team, decide to go check out the rally. We get there right at 2 p.m., when the gathering is supposed to begin; we are the first ones there, except for a dozen or so cops. Soon, however, Connie Arnold, Peter Mendoza, and a few other folks from the disability community show up, with arm bands,
flyers, and a megaphone. Gradually a crowd of 40 or 50 gathers.

As a gesture of support for ADAPT, the rally’s timing seems a little off, since most ADAPTers won’t arrive until later today. But at least it’s one way to encourage the involvement of some local people who, for one reason or another, won’t be joining the ADAPT protests. And locals do have a compelling interest here: California, once regarded almost as a disability utopia because of is generous and consumer-controlled services, is now experiencing harsh cutbacks due to a state budget crunch. Some in the community are beginning to realize that a nationwide system is needed.

A few speakers introduce the issues: the cuts in personal assistance services, and the monopoly exercised by the nursing home industry. Then individuals are invited to come before the crowd and describe their own experiences with personal assistance services, independent living, and/or institutionalization.

Sunday: Day Two
Members of ADAPT from throughout the country, having rested a bit from the previous day’s traveling, gather in the hotel’s huge meeting room. The four-hour training covers ADAPT’s history and purposes, the basics of civil disobedience, and a tentative outline of the week’s activities, including the convention of the American Health Care Association (AHCA), which represents the nursing home industry. (The convention is the main reason ADAPT chose San Francisco this time around). Like most ADAPT meetings, this one is part strategy session, part pep rally. Mike Auberger, Stephanie Thomas, Shel Trapp, and others remind the group of our previous successes and our proven collective power.

Meanwhile, the back of the room bustles with the buying and selling of T-shirts, jewelry, luggage tags, books, bandanas, and other ADAPT-logoed paraphernalia. These entrepreneurial activities are an
important fundraising strategy; local chapters use the proceeds from these sales to help pay members’ travel expenses to ADAPT actions.

With the introductory business taken care of, the group discussion turns to immediate plans. AHCA delegates are arriving today and will attend a cocktail party this evening. Since our arrival, the word has been passed that we would hit the Marriott Hotel, where the AHCA delegates are staying. But we don’t want the police to know that until we get here. So at the meeting, Auberger announces that our target is a cocktail party at the Moscone Convention Center.

The meeting ends. People disperse to grab late lunches and/or bathroom breaks. Then we reassemble in the lobby at 4 p.m., lining up and dividing into color-coded teams. This preparation period is always busy but fun: hand-printed placards and duct tape are passed up and down the line, turning wheelchairs and bodies into mobile signboards with slogans like “NURSING HOMES = DEATH" and “MY HOME, NOT A NURSING. ” This is also a time of socializing and reunion, punctuated by shrieks of recognition, hugs, sharing of news. As we await our marching orders, we meet new people and greet friends we haven’t seen since the Chicago actions back in May or the Orlando actions a year ago.

Finally we head out, marching single file down the middle of the street. We chant along the way: “FREE OUR BROTHERS, FREE OUR SISTERS, FREE OUR PEOPLE NOW!” and "UP WITH ATTENDANT CARE, DOWN WITH NURSING HOMES!” The police dutifully block the traffic, providing a safe
and visible route through city streets to our destination. Our relationship with the police is a strange and sometimes contradictory one: they play a dual role, both adversary and escort. Along our route some are courteous, some indifferent. Here we don’t engage with them on the same intense level we will later on.

When we get to Fourth Street, we stop at the Marriott instead of continuing on to the Moscone Center. We quickly separate into our teams. Despite our efforts to deceive them, the police are ready for
us. They have fenced off every entrance with their steel barricades, yellow tape, and armed, heavy-booted officers. But this works fine for us — if they can keep us out, then we can keep everybody else out. Each team takes a different door. I end up posted at the main entrance, in line with a dozen other protestors. A barricade separates us from the door, but we are effectively blocking access for the AHCA delegates, many of whom are trying to return to the hotel after a day of shopping.

The sight of these well-dressed men and women, laden with packages, really gets us fired up. Their affluence and conspicuous consumption are their rewards for exploiting the needs of people who are older or disabled. We turn up the volume of our chanting: “PEOPLE ARE DYING, SHAME ON YOU!” and a popular favorite, “WE’RE ADAPT, YOU’RE TRAPPED, GET USED TO IT! ” When the AHCA delegates will look at us at all, they look with contempt. Occasionally one will read a poster on somebody’s wheelchair, and roll their eyes. They talk to each other, ridiculing our words and actions. They feel unfairly singled out for harassment, and they are frustrated and angry at our ability to prevent them from moving freely in and out of the hotel.

One guy comes right up to me and starts shouting above my head at the cop standing behind me: “Are you going to allow this? What are you going to do about this?” The officer tries to explain that they can’t just rough up a bunch of disabled people; somebody might get hurt. The AHCA guy thinks that’s absurd. He says he wants to go down to the police station and file some kind of complaint against us. When he stops talking, I tell him that his is how people in nursing homes must feel, confined against their will. “Well, there’s two sides to every story, ” he says. He goes on to insist that the people in nursing homes want to be there. I notice that his official name badge has a tag on it that says “AHCA PAC.” He is part of the organization’s political action committee, which lobbies Congress for more nursing home dollars. He is really angry. For a moment I am afraid he’s going to have a heart attack right there on the sidewalk. But he eventually gives up and leaves.

The standoff continues for a couple of hours. The police do manage to open an entrance through the garage, and allow hotel guests in while barricading protestors out. Finally the word comes around, through ADAPT’s mysterious but effective communication system, that we are going to declare victory and go back to our hotel. We march back the same way we came, again chanting all the way. That evening, and indeed most of the next four evenings, our coverage on the TV news attests to the impact of our message and of our action. It’s not easy to get coverage in a city with so much going on, including a protest every other day or so. But they haven’t seen protests like this in a while.

Monday: Day Three

Today we will hit two targets at once. For months, ADAPT has been calling and writing to President George Bush and to Governor Bill Clinton, demanding that they endorse the ADAPT plan for a national attendant services program. Neither has given a satisfactory response, although Clinton has been getting closer and closer. He has declared his support for a national system of guaranteed, consumer-driven attendant services. Yet he still hadn’t made clear how he would finance the program, whether he would take on the nursing home industry and procure the money from that budget. So today we will try to take over both candidates’ local campaign offices.

The Bush office is a particularly juicy target; Bush, despite his much-touted signing of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), is an unpopular figure with many of us. The reasons range from his penchant for cutting social programs to his militaristic foreign policy to his anti-abortion stance—but also because it’s his administration, his Secretary of Health and Human Services, which has resisted our demands for guaranteed attendant services for the past two years. When the day’s assignments are made, several people request going to Bush headquarters, feeling that he is a more loathsome foe. But some of us feel it's just as important to put pressure on Clinton—or perhaps even more important, since polls show he is likely to be the next president.

We all march together down Van Ness Street, again following a route cleared of traffic by police on foot and on motorcycle. At Republican headquarters, half of our group breaks away and charges the building. These protestors are barred from entering by police, but they manage to block the doors for a time. Staff members are hostile, refusing even to discuss the issue under these circumstances. Ultimately, the police forcibly move protestors away from the entrance.

PHOTO by Tom Olin: A mass of ADAPT people in wheelchairs fills a sidewalk and most of the picture, with a handful of police officers in their dark uniforms, standing in front of a building. Caption reads: AT GOP headquarters.

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The Clinton headquarters turns out to be a friendlier place, although it takes some time for the import of our message to be fully understood. Several dozen protestors take the front door, where the staff had ordered ramps built in anticipation of our actions. Thirty more or dash around to the back, where there are a couple of entrances through a small garage. (I’m in this group.) We encounter no resistance, and we quickly fill most of the room’s available space.

As soon as we have staked our territory, we begin chanting the usual refrains, so loudly that it’s difficult for the workers to conduct their telephone business. In a strange and unexpected response, somebody begins cutting and serving a large cake! So on the spot, we invent new chants: “CAKE IS NOT ENOUGH—FREE OUR PEOPLE NOW” and “CUT THE CAKE, CUT THE CRAP, CLINTON’S GOT TO FACE ADAPT!” AND “COME ON CLINTON, COME ON GORE, DON’T IGNORE US ANYMORE!”

For a while we just hang out with the staffers. Some are aloof, some visibly annoyed by our presence. Good liberals they may be, but they can’t see anything outside this game of politics—they don’t like it when people break the rules. Others, however, take a little time to talk with us, to ask questions and try to understand our issues. I talk with one young woman who wants to know more about our demands. She admits she doesn’t feel Clinton is addressing all of her issues either, but she’s working for him because she hopes he'll be better than Bush. She encourages us to keep pushing Clinton after the election. “Don’t worry, we will,” I tell her.

Word comes from near the front of the building that efforts are underway to contact Bill Clinton in Michigan, where he is getting ready for the campaign’s final debate that evening. No word back from him yet. Meanwhile, in the back, negotiations begin over more mundane matters. The office director, Willie Fletcher, assures us that we can stay as long as we like—but he asks us to let his people get to the bathroom. We huddle to consider this. We come back with a deal: turn off all the computers for the rest of the day, and we’ll allow access to the bathrooms. After all, our objective today isn’t to cause severe discomfort; it’s to halt the office’s work for the day, in order to get Clinton’s attention. Fletcher readily agrees to this proposition. “Shut ‘em off! ” he orders his staff. We catch a few cheaters later, but by and large the workers abide by the agreement.

Now we reach a kind of detente with the office staff. Most seem resigned to our presence; a few actively seek dialog with us. Fletcher tells me he has no intention of calling the police—unless we want him to. Would it help our cause more to have some arrests? I give a vague answer, put the ball back in his court. He only repeats that we’re welcome to stay.

Some remain hostile, however. One young man, determined to leave through the door we’re blocking, bullies his way between the dense cluster of people and wheelchairs. He pushes hard, not stopping and not caring who he hurts in the process. We shout at him to stop, but he ignores us.

Later he returns and wants to re-enter. Our reaction is immediate, and so strong that Fletcher comes over to see what’s wrong. “This guy is a jerk!” we yell. “He is not getting back in here!” Fletcher orders the kid to get lost. “Don’t come back today! ” Fletcher calls after him.

For the rest of the day, we hold our post, waiting for news. Finally, Fletcher receives a statement from Little Rock, which he presents at the front door. It isn’t everything we want, but it’s a start. In it, Clinton vows to establish a Task Force on Attendant Services within the first 100 days of his administration. He also promises that ADAPT will have at least one slot on that Task Force.

We stay a while longer. Staffers wind up their work for the day, and collect around a color television. People begin arriving for the debate party, When they realize they can’t get in, they gather behind us in the garage, sitting on crates or standing. Fletcher brings a small TV over to the door, so they - and we — can watch.

About halfway through the debate, ADAPT declares another victory, and leaves. Fletcher wishes us luck.

PHOTO by Tom Olin: A woman in a white blouse with a political button, purses her lips as she looks out over the crowd. Her back is to the building, and beside her a man in a wheelchair (Bob Kafka) speaks over a bullhorn. Both are on a platform above the sidewalk with a railing and a large crowd of ADAPT protesters is on the street below. Caption reads: A visit with the Dems

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Tuesday: Day Four

Today we hit the Federal Building, at Number One United Nations Plaza. This is the place that disability rights activists occupied for several weeks in 1978, to protest the government's failure to establish regulations implementing Section 504 of the 1973 Rehabilitation Act. It’s also the site of a continuous AIDS vigil. Staffed by volunteers 24 hours a day, the vigil’s purpose is to call attention to the U.S. government’s inaction in the face of the AIDS crisis and to disseminate information on services and prevention. I’ve spoken to several of these folks over the past several days, and they are very much in support of our actions. People disabled by AIDS too often end up dying in nursing homes, for lack of the in-home assistance they need.

With our chairs, we quickly blockade every entrance to the Federal Building, including the driveway sloping down into a garage. Federal police threaten us with arrest; we hold our ground. It’s the city police, however, who soon start moving in. Things heat up fast. They start hauling us away from the doorways, putting into practice their days of training before our arrival.

Mayor Feinstein’s disability advisor and another local advocate were assigned to instruct the officers in how to forcibly arrest people with disabilities, how to lock and unlock wheelchair brakes, and how to disengage motors in order to push chairs manually. The cop I encountered obviously hadn’t paid close enough attention. He comes up behind me and orders me to move. I refuse. He reaches down to disengage my gears so he can move me. But he grabs the wrong levers, and puts on my brakes instead! This makes pulling my chair extremely difficult; he has to yank so hard that he nearly tips my chair over.

Once they have cleared us away from the doorways, the police quickly erect barriers and form an aisle for the federal employees to walk in and out of the building. For a while, held back on either side of this corridor, all we can do is keep up a steady stream of chanting at the people passing between our two lines.

Then, protestors start wheeling into the street, trying to block the entrance to the passageway. Things get even wilder from there. Cops are trying to restrain wheelchairs, both electric and manual. Meanwhile, they’re going after any ambulatory protestors who step out of line. Then people start throwing themselves out of their wheelchairs, trying to scramble between barricades, or just sitting there waiting for arrest. That’s what the police are trying to avoid— what with the hassle, the bad publicity, and the fear of inflicting injuries, arresting people in chairs just isn’t worth it. On the other hand, they do want to shut this down.

Faced with few choices, the police start hauling people off. The mass arrest takes hours: two or three at a time, the arrestees are loaded into the lift-equipped vans the city has rented from a local paratransit company. These are the same vehicles, and the same drivers, that transported many of us from the airport.

Our ranks diminished by the 49 arrests, we leave the area around the Federal Building. We find a spot nearby for an impromptu meeting. Wade Blank tells the exhausted troops that this has been a very successful action; we can be proud of a day of strength and commitment. He also says that the police expect us to retreat now. Are we up for another demonstration?

The response is an enthusiastic Yes! So off we go in the direction of a new target. Again, we have been kept in partial darkness about specifics, to avoid cluing in our eavesdropping hotel security guards.

It turns out to be the California State Building. We take its two exits easily, and hold it for the rest of the afternoon. Then we go back to the hotel, where we greet like heroes the returning arrestees.

Wednesday: Day Six

For two days we’ve given the AHCA delegates a break while we harassed other targets. Now we head back to the Marriott for our parting shot.

We follow the usual game plan at the now-familiar building. This time we protest even more intensely, shouting angrily at the passing delegates. Our chants are more pointed: “HO HO, HEY HEY, HOW MANY BEDS DID YOU FILL TODAY?” which evolves into “HO HO, HEY HEY, HOW MANY CRIPS DID YOU KILL TODAY?”

The police seem angrier too. Especially two cops near me, guarding a barricade across the hotel’s garage entrance. They delight in making snide comments. When we see two officers handcuffing one of our brothers who has anhritis, his face contorted in pain at the tightness of the cuffs and the angle of his arms, the cop nearest me sneers, “Look at Mr. Hollywood over there.”

“They're hurting him! ” we counter. “Aren’t you gong to make them stop?”

“Yeah, we’ll get right on that,” one cop laughs.

This kind of sarcasm continues throughout the afternoon. I grow more and more uncomfortable and annoyed at the ignorance and disrespect displayed by these two officers.

Finally I decide to leave my post at the garage entrance. I don’t abandon it; I find another protestor to take my place. I want to check out some other action.

A runner approaches me with a message: “They’re looking for some people to help block traffic at the intersection. Do you want to get arrested?”

I had thought not, but my feelings have changed. I can’t stand another minute with the sarcastic cops at my post; and I feel so energized by what’s been happening all week, that I don’t want to miss any part of the experience. With ADAPT, part of the experience is going to jail. It’s by no means the total experience, and I’ve never felt pressured to be arrested to prove my commitment. But suddenly l feel ready, willing, and able.

I join the line growing across the street. Traffic has already been diverted, so we’re not causing much of a tie-up. Nevertheless, a few officers arrive, and ask us nicely to go back onto the sidewalk. One by one, we refuse. By now, the police have rehearsed this routine pretty thoroughly. With resigned efficiency, they take us to the waiting vans, where drivers load us on the lifts and tie down our chairs according to California’s strict guidelines.

We are taken to Pier 38, down on the waterfront. There, we are herded into two large holding pens. Then, one at a time, we are called up, processed, asked for identification, and issued a citation. After that we are each released. The whole process is excruciatingly thorough, time-consuming, and rather dull. But the officers involved in the entire arrest and booking procedure are courteous and respectful. They offer explanations, and even occasional compliments. A few commend us for our commitment and offer words of support for our cause.

Later than evening, everyone collects in our hotel conference room for the final events of the week. Business taken care of, the ADAPTers now go all out in a celebration of ourselves, not just as a movement, but as a community. There is a wedding, a very moving ceremony, officiated by the Reverend Wade Blank, as two long-time members of ADAPT declare their love and ask the support of their brothers and sisters. And the group does give its support—enthusiastically, emotionally, loudly! I've never heard so much cheering at a wedding before. The fact that the betrothed are two men doesn’t seem to bother anybody. A gay wedding is perfectly consistent with ADAPT’s principles of equality, inclusiveness, and individual liberty.

The evening, and the week, ends with a minicultural festival. ADAPT members share their poetry, music, humor, and visions of the future. The star performers are Johnny Creschendo and Barbara Lysicki, two activists from London, England. They have been with us all week; Barbara’s comedy routines and Johnny’s songs and poems therefore resonate all the more deeply with the experience and goals of the audience. Though we’re all exhausted, we join in singing Johnny’s lyrics:

I don’t want your benefit
We want dignity from where we sit
We want choices and rights in our lives
I don't want you to speak for me
Just listen and then you'll see
We’ve got choices and rights in our lives
Choices and rights, that’s
What we’ve got to fight for-
Choices and rights in our lives! ”

PHOTO by Tom Olin: A man in a wheelchair (Bob Kafka) is doubled over forward in his lap, arms zip-tied to his chair. Two police stand beside him one, holding a white board that has his arrest details on it. Other police are partially in the picture, one taking the arrest photo, another with a fist full of zip-ties. Behind Bob Tisha Auberger is standing looking over her shoulder. Caption reads: At the Federal Center.

If you'd like to join ADAPT for fun and freedom in Washington, D.C this May, just call Mike Auberger at (303) 733-9324

Author

The Handicapped Coloradan; photo by Tom Olin

Created on

Tuesday 16 July 2013

Posted on

Tuesday 10 September 2019

Tags

Handicapped Coloradan, Laura Hershey, march, Tom Olin

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• San Francisco, fall 1992

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