I was there . . .
Tim Wheat
Washington DC, 1998
Tim Wheat reads his narrative.
The keys to the National Republican Party Headquarters were dangling in the
doorway to the exclusive "Capitol Club." I instinctively grabbed them out of the
lock and tossed them to Mike Auberger.
Suddenly, at least, the security personal were happy to come out to talk with
ADAPT.
The heart of direct action is taking action. At the end of October 1998 in
Washington DC, ADAPT was striking back to help preserve the Americans with
Disabilities Act and the gains we had made in transportation.
Just 8 years after the historic civil rights legislation became law, Georgia was
attempting to erase the "integration mandate" from the ADA. The state argued in
federal court that institutions were appropriate places for people with
disabilities - and they had won. The Olmstead case would go to the Supreme Court
in early 1999.
Many people spoke of how the ADA had attempted too much. They used language
similar to those who opposed lifts on buses. Rather than "local option,"
adversaries lectured about "unfunded mandates" and "states rights."
They said the momentum was gone from the ADA and, frustrating especially to
ADAPT's history, the American Bus Association was suing to stop the mandate for
lifts on all new buses. People with disabilities had made significant gains over
the past few years; maybe progress should slowdown?
Action, however, is what ADAPT is about. Hundreds of ADAPT activists flooded
into Washington DC to regain the initiative with the message that we will be the
ones to define our rights.
Direct Action had proven very successful in establishing equality in
transportation. Wade Blank explained that in cities like Denver that used Direct
Action, the transportation systems made commitments to accessibility. Cities
without direct action of people with disabilities demanding equal access were
lagging noticeably behind.
Cross-country buses, notably Greyhound, were using their lawyers and a tactic of
delay to avoid regulations to make over-the-road buses accessible. On the final
day of the fall action, a team of about 30 ADAPT activists negotiated all day
with the American Bus Association. The ABA's office is the old Greyhound
Terminal in Washington DC where most of us chanted for hours in the acoustically
amplifying giant marble foyer. The ABA gave up, and ADAPT had secured a meeting
with the ABA president, after the police came and prepared to make hundreds of
arrests.
The day before, ADAPT demanded that the Department of Health and Human Services,
specifically the Healthcare Finance Administration (HCFA), that runs Medicaid,
stop backpedaling on enforcement of the ADA "integration mandate." Activists had
spent the day in a tussle, as General Service Police Officers pulled people from
doors and out of wheelchairs. One entrance at a time, the officers and activists
pushed and filled empty space. It was a non-violent dance of authority and
passion.
Of course, about 40 activists had the parking garage blocked, and as the end of
the business day came near, HHS administration and the officers realized that
they couldn't play the same game with the parking lot. As soon as they pulled
someone out of the drive, another adapt activist would take their place and keep
all the cars bottled up.
When HCFA realized they had to negotiate to get home, John Callahan, the
Assistant Secretary of Management and Budget, invited an ADAPT team in to work
out the details. When that team refused to accept the first draft of an
agreement, the activists inside only had to point Mr. Callahan to the window,
where he could see and hear ADAPT's passion and commitment. He realized that
ADAPT meant what they said, and agreed in writing that ADAPT would meet with the
Secretary herself. Each one of us played a role that day.
The part of this action that I remember best is the small role I played at the
National Republican Party Headquarters. On the first day of action ADAPT split
into a bipartisan force and hit the Republican and Democratic national
headquarters. The direct goal was support of MiCASSA, but everyone wanted to
make a clear statement that institutionalization is discrimination like the ADA
says.
I remember this well because, before we actually blocked the doors to the
National Republican Headquarters, we were attempting to crowd into the building.
In the struggle at the front door, a security guard had left the keys hanging in
the door and I grabbed them and tossed the keys to Mike.
The security personnel threatened to have me arrested on all kinds of felonies,
but I had no idea where the keys were. They could identify me as the person who
grabbed the keys, but they didn't know what I did with them.
Mike Auberger did all the talking, and they grilled him about the keys. Mike
never lost the focus on why ADAPT was there, and turned all the Republican Party
folks questions back to support for our legislation.
For all I knew, Mike had the keys right there with him.
ADAPT got letters of support from both the Republicans and Democrats that day.
But the un-quantified success of the October 1998 action was that ADAPT had sent
the message to the disability rights community, and to the nation that we would
not accept a slow unraveling of our civil rights. We demanded equality. We were
going to fight Olmstead and we were going to win.