Author: National ADAPT

On our arrival at Denver on 23 October 1983 the sun was shining and the weather was warm. We were met by Wade Blank, who told us we would be extremely valuable on the picket line outside of the airport. About 4 p.m., Wade had a call that there was trouble at the Hilton. So, leaving a small nucleus to welcome the American Public Transportation Association at the airport, we piled into 3 vans and went downtown.

We were unloaded at the front entrance of the beautiful downtown Hilton and we joined the 25 wheelchair users already on the sidewalk. The set look on the faces of the APTA men as they arrived, and their averted eyes showed we were at least noticed.

That evening we gathered at an unused Jewish Synagogue Wade had rented for a supper of beans, salad, hot dogs and cookies. Wade explained he was on 24-hour call, and if there was any problem, it would be taken care of within 10 minutes. Everyone was given the chance to make comments then were loaded into the Atlantis vans – 6 wheelchairs to a van – and taken to places we were to stay.

The next morning was one of those typical intermountain days, from a high of 75° on Sunday to wet, drizzly high of 53°. We encircled the building about 10 feet apart to be very visible to all passersby. We all had distinctive pins, “We will ride”, “ADAPT – American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation” we demonstrated our resolve all day. We were bundled up as best we could. Many of us thought our feet had permanent frostbite.

The press was everywhere. T.V., radio stations, newspapers, McNeil-Leher Report, Washington Post and U.S. News. Most of us in wheelchairs had the opportunity to be interviewed by local T.V., radio and newspapers. We passed, out literature about ADAPT and spoke to anyone who would speak to us. We were pulled off the picket lines at 4 p.m. and transported to the synagogue for dinner and a discussion by Dennis Cannon from the Architectural Barriers & Transportation Compliance Board.

Tuesday: The day was glorious, 72°, sun shining and we didn’t have to man the picket lines until 9 a.m! We surrounded the building again and traded off shifts in the sun and shade, because there was a low of 40° and it took time to warm up. The article in the paper was pushed to the 3rd page because of the invasion of Grenada.

Certain concessions were given when APTA officials got concerned about the smooth running of their conference. For not disrupting the meetings, ADAPT bargained a 20 minute presentation to APTA on Wednesday morning, just before Andrew Young’s (ex-United Nations Ambassador and the then Mayor of Atlanta, Georgia). Negotiations were held in Mayor Pena’s office about the logistics of the presentation for the next day.

Wednesday: We arrived at 8:15 at the United Bank Plaza in 36° weather and wheeled to the hotel. The street lobby was empty and we encountered no difficulty in gaining use of the freight elevators. No one stopped us. One of the things ADAPT had made clear was that our presentation would not start until the hall was full.

At 9:35 the meeting was called to order, introductions by APTA and Mayor Pena’s office were made and we started. During the presentation of the resolution, the ADAPT members softly, then louder, chanted: “We will ride, we will ride, we will ride,” continuously. It carried such an emotional impact some members of APTA joined in with us.

Following the presentation we assembled in the small park kitty-corner from the Hilton. Mayor Young spoke on the parallels of the two movements (civil rights movement and disability rights movement) and of the necessity for accessible transportation. There was a meeting with ADAPT, a high official of UMTA (Urban Mass Transit Act) and Dennis Cannon, ABTCB, with the outcome being that an UMTA official and Dennis will meet with Secretary of Transportation, Elizabeth Dole (who successfully avoided us on Monday) to discuss the pros and cons of paratransit and mainline accessibility.

MY FIRST ACTION – 1984

In 1984 I was a VISTA Volunteer for our state coalition – Coalition of Texans with Disabilities (CTD). I had met Stephanie Thomas at the CTD state conference in San Antonio and was excited to receive an envelope posted from El Paso, Texas where Stephanie worked for the local Independent Living Center. I opened it up and saw it was an application for an organizing training to be held by a group called the Access Institute sponsored by ADAPT, American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation (or Transit I can’t remember what it said). On the front of the application was a picture of a city mainline bus being flushed down a toilet. In big letters over the bus was the statement “DON’T FLUSH – ORGANIZE! along with the dates of the training and location.

I hurriedly filled out the application and sent it off to the Atlantis Community located in Denver, Colorado hoping I would be selected to go to Washington, DC and get some experience in community organizing. When I didn’t hear for weeks and the training was getting closer I assumed I hadn’t been picked. WRONG! I called the Atlantis Community and to my surprise I had been picked to get my way paid to the training they just were a little behind in letting folks know. Paper handling, as I was to find out, was not the Atlantis Community’s high suite.

I was a little nervous getting off the plane at National Airport in DC not real sure how I was going to get to the Harrington Hotel on 11th and K St NW in downtown DC where we were suppose to stay for the training. The training was to be held the next day at the New York Avenue Church. (Where that was I had no idea) I was relieved when I was met at the baggage by Mike Auberger and Babs Johnson. Mike had an intense look riding in his motorized wheelchair with his beard and long ponytail while Babs grabbed my bag as we headed for the Metro hidden in a back corner of the parking lot. We got off at the Federal Triangle Metro stop and rolled the three blocks to the hotel. The Harrington will not win any awards for accessibility but it certainly had a lot of weird like ambiance.

I most remember the place we ate most meals the “Kitcheteria”. It was a cross between a cafeteria and an old fashioned greasy spoon. The food was good (some don’t remember it that way) but the characters that you saw in the place would make for a great short story. The rooms at the Harrington were all very large and had many beds for large groups to share. I shared but I can’t remember with how many or with whom.

Got up the next morning and headed to the New York Avenue Church with the rest of the trainees. Folks I remember (there were others but…): Claude Holcombe from CT, Rick James from Salt Lake City, a female little person from Los Angeles, Mike Peluso from Syracuse, NY, a woman from Little Rock, Dixie from Cincinnati and Doris Ray from Virginia.

On the ground floor of the New York Ave Church there was a big room with a flip chart set up and hanging out in the front in baggy jeans and a totally bald head was this scary fire hydrant built man who was our trainer, Shel Trapp. The morning session agenda was: Power, Issues, Strategies. This classroom exercise was just a prelude to the on the job training of Direct Action organizing we were about to experience. The head of the Urban Mass Transit Administration, Ralph Stanley had been invited to a meeting with ADAPT at the church.

The plan was to meet with him on the issue of lifts on all new buses but as he was leaving we would surround his car and demand he institute a policy that would result in lifts on all new buses. This was not your regular classroom experience. The thoughts that went through my head made me very nervous. As a VISTA Volunteer I was not allowed to protest and certainly not get arrested. (The Reagan Administration had just issued rules on that very subject in the early ‘80’s).

Well, the meeting began and some of us went outside and surrounded Ralph Stanley’s black limousine. When Stanley and his entourage came out they were quite flustered to see a group of people in wheelchairs, chanting WE WILL RIDE, blocking their way back to their offices. We held the vehicle till the cops arrived and as planned pulled off.

We decided not to get anyone arrested because the next day we would need all the folks for the protest at the American Public Transit Administration (APTA) Conference at the Washington DC Convention Center. I didn’t know what to expect. After the blocking of the limousine I got a good feel for the tactics of Direct Action but protesting at a huge building like the Convention Center seemed daunting.

After a night at the bar we got up early, ate breakfast at the “Kitcheteria” met in the very small lobby of the Harrington and headed to 9th and “H” NW, the Convention Center. We gathered on the corner about 2 blocks from the Convention Center to discuss final tactics. We knew which entrance they were going in from some “mole like” intelligence gotten from someone getting the APTA Conference packet. All I can remember now is following Mike Auberger through some wooden police barricades in a mad dash to the front door of the Convention Center. About 50-75 of us blocked all the doors and began chanting and knocking on the doors with our hands and spoons distributed by the leadership.

I felt a rush of excitement. The police were running around trying to stop us from getting to the doors. One redheaded woman with a motorized chair was grabbed and she was pulled up into a wheelie with her legs hitting the wooden police barricades. She cried out that her leg was broken. I was at the door and turned my head and saw Phil Caulkins. I didn’t know Phil at the time but he was to become a national leader in the disability community.

Out through another door came one of the attendants, handcuffed and being led away by three policemen around him. Somehow he had gotten inside and was arrested trying to hold the door open so the rest of us could get to the APTA members. We didn’t. After about an hour at the door the police started the long process of arrest. After saying over and over I wouldn’t, I couldn’t get arrested, I was. I learned a lot about organizing that day, I learned a lot about myself.

The other vivid memory I have of my first Action was not related to protesting but of friendship. I got very close to folks at the Harrington Hotel. I was impressed by the intensity and commitment of Shel Trapp.

Mike and Babs were to become good friends. Claude Holcombe, Rick James and I still joke about a nighttime roll we took in downtown DC.

Claude and Rick in motorized chairs, me in my manual. Found out Claude and Rick could be turned around whenever a pretty lady would pass us by. 1984 was a life-changing year for me. I learned the truth about the statement “Action Speaks Louder Than Words”. It changed my way of thinking about people, relationships and how best to bring about social change. It was a very good year.

San Antonio was my first action and ADAPT’s first hit on a regional APTA (the American Public Transit Association) conference. We stayed in a convent and our rough ways were not too pleasing for the nuns. The place had a kitchen, meeting rooms and little bunk bed sleeping rooms. The doors of many rooms were too narrow to get in; nothing was really accessible — but we made it work.

Mark Ball and a group of others came out when I arrived. He walked, and he had a portable vent thing with him at all times. They immediately started in with a lecture on the politics of oppression. They were so tough, so ready to cut through the crap. My heart opened and I thought, “hmmmmm this group is something real.”

Back then we had group meals for dinner – we were much smaller in numbers, about 40 people – but it felt like an army. When I went inside everyone was in a big meeting discussing targets and tactics for the next day. Everyone was talking. The dishes from dinner were in the sink. I went in to wash them – it was clear the folks who cooked were listening intently to the discussion and they were going to do attendant work when it was done. Dishes were the least I could do. The discussion and debate went on for hours, as the group thought through the strategy and tactics for the upcoming days.

All the Texans slept in this sitting room together. I was the only woman in the group and they insisted I take the couch. It was so quaint and gentlemanly.

The next day Wade bought everyone straw cowboy hats to wear. We loaded into vans and drove downtown. We had lots of vans and packed in tight! Some of the local disability community joined us as we marched around the Alamo with signs calling for lifts on buses. We went over to the lobby of the hotel where APTA was meeting and took over the lobby. With its open atrium, our chants echoed through all the floors. Finally Jack Gilstrap, the Executive Director of APTA, came down and met with us, but he refused to budge. He would not support lifts on buses.

We took off in pairs and trios, as planned, fanning out across the downtown. Our demand was a meeting with Mayor Henry Cisneros. There were no cell phones or radios, yet we simultaneously started blocking buses all over downtown. It was my first time and I was with Mel Conrardy and George Florum. They told me it was easy: two in front and one behind, making sure to stick out so the driver would see you in the rear view mirror. Mel looked so mellow it was hard to believe he was doing what he was doing. George had the biker look down to a “T”. We waited for the bus to stop for a red light and boom — we were rolling off the curb cut and were in front, then behind, the bus. My heart was pounding through my rib cage.

We had about 20 pairs, but in the end, the only ones arrested were two people who couldn’t find an unblocked bus, got frustrated, and blocked a car instead. Cisneros quickly agreed to meet with us on Wednesday.

The next day I had to go back to work, but the group took over the VIA Transit office. I came back to tales of ringing a giant bell in their lobby for hours on end, of sticking crutches through double swinging doors and wheelchairs everywhere in the office. The Transit director, Wayne “lifts on San Antonio buses over my dead body” Cook, sounded wild.

Day three, we met with Cisneros in the Convention Center. He seemed truly interested and promised to make changes, which he actually followed through on later. The media, though they covered our issues and us, was also full of happy locals riding VIAtrans paratransit. Some locals had bravely marched with us and spoke out to the media in support of our goals, risking retaliation from the notoriously oppressive VIAtrans.

A local cartoonist, Leo Garza, did a series of Nacho Guarache cartoons on our issues with the transit pros! After Cisneros, we went back out to ride the trolleys. They were not accessible, so a couple of others and I crawled on different trolleys. Once up in my seat, I could not remember a more beautiful and peaceful tour of San Antonio – like a completely different city. The experience underlined for me “how the other half lives” and why we needed to do what we were doing.