During the ADA’s second decade, our community filed many lawsuits to try to make the law’s promise a reality. These suits often took a personal toll, but we began to see real change in access and, eventually, attitudes. NEW MOBILITY was there to capture the spirit of the times.

Nailing The Zeitgeist

2000: What’s next for the ADA? If I were a betting fool, I’d bet the ADA will be found to be constitutional — for “the disabled.” Its integration mandate will also endure and slowly dismantle institutions, forcing states to quit putting people in nursing homes solely because they need personal assistance. The access requirements will remain largely untouched, too; eventually both stadium architects and mom-and-pop contractors will wake up, and new construction — including websites — will be accessible the first time out. But existing structures will rarely be changed without a fight.
— Mary Johnson, June 2000 issue

2003: I had discovered the cost of activism, the paradox. Those of us who call attention to our disabilities in order to publicize the needs of the group to which we belong must pay a price. In seeking societal independence and freedom from restrictive stereotyping, we unavoidably sacrifice personal independence and individuality. The more we seek to break free from an outdated stereotype, the wider the stereotypical net stretches. At first we were seen as meek, polite, unfortunate cripples seeking what was rightfully ours. After activism became radicalized, the stereotype grew to include pushy, rude, ungrateful cripples demanding more than they were entitled to. It seems we are either one or the other.

In truth, we are neither. And that image is almost impossible to project. Who we really are is not an image at all. The general public must be made to understand that each type of disability is different, and that each person within each disability type expresses who he or she is differently. We are individuals who share certain needs. Maybe the best way to get that idea across is to invite people, organizations and businesses into our lives, to let them roll a mile in our chairs, rather than put them on the defensive with demands and threats. If activist groups can figure out how to do this, people may just start doing the right thing again.

And if they don’t? Sue the bastards.
— Tim Gilmer, September 2003 issue

2010: Having that sense of [disability] identity leads into a sense of community. And then, with a sense of community, we tend to get more collective action. Within the broader culture, disability is still perceived as a negative, but there are a lot of cracks being made in that perception.
— Mark Johnson, director of advocacy at Shepherd Center

2007: Carrie Ann Lucas wasn’t looking to sue Kmart. She simply wanted to shop there but couldn’t do so without running into accessibility hassles such as blocked aisles, tightly spaced clothing racks, seldom opened accessible checkout aisles, inaccessible restrooms, fitting rooms and parking lots.

Lucas, a chair user due to congenital myopathy, spent years going to the store managers to point out the accessibility problems and how they violated the law. When she’d return to the same store a few weeks later, she’d find the same problem still there. She filed numerous letters with the Department of Justice, but Kmart repeatedly claimed all the problems had been fixed. She even requested mediation, but Kmart said no.

Most of us would have bailed at this point, perhaps not so silently kvetching that we’d take our business elsewhere. We’d feel like victims, businesses would continue to break the law and nothing would change. But Carrie Lucas isn’t most people, and rather than give up, she sought help and began a crusade. In the end, she prevailed and won a victory for all of us.

The settlement agreement, which United States District Judge John Kane termed the “gold standard” for disability access class actions, ensures sweeping accessibility improvements at more than 1,400 Kmart stores nationwide, along with damages totaling $13 million dollars, four times as much as the next largest disability access class action suit.

More important, the settlement provides a template for taking on an entire store chain, and a model of what compliance can and should look like — for the courts as well as other chains. If Kmart, one of the least prosperous outfits in the country — and just emerging from bankruptcy — can find a way, surely more upscale and affluent retail chains can also be compelled to do so.

What began with one person’s struggle to improve wheelchair access in an inner-city discount department store turned into a seven-and-a-half year saga resulting in the largest and most far-reaching accessibility settlement ever. If you’ve seen some changes at your local Target, Sears or other chain outlet, just remember, one person — Carrie Lucas — got the ball rolling.
— Richard Holicky, November 2007 issue

2010: I can still remember when discrimination based solely on disability was as socially acceptable as the attitudes toward blacks in the era of early civil rights. The ADA gave us a voice and brought to our culture a new level of activism that, until then, nobody had been able to imagine. The ADA cemented the permanent foundation of our disability rights movement.

We all know the ADA was no perfect child. She had to be taught and cared for, nurtured and allowed to grow. We were first-time parents who rejoiced at the birth of this promise of equality, this promise of hope, this promise of independence and access for all.
— Maria R. Palacios, July 2010 issue

Want more? See “ADA: A People’s History” by Josie Byzek.

2000-2001: ADA Lawsuits We Loved

A Valentine’s Day Massacre

This year, [Valentine’s Day] will be wonderful. I’ve ordered roses from the same florist that sent me away last year. I’ve ordered champagne from the same store that charged me for breaking the bottle I couldn’t reach. I’ve made reservations at the same restaurant that charged me gourmet prices for take-out. But I tell you, this year will be different.

The florist settled my ADA lawsuit against them and has built a ramp. The wine store settled my ADA lawsuit against them and has a written policy mandating assistance to people with disabilities. The restaurant settled my ADA lawsuit against them and has a fully accessible front entrance. I won’t even need help to use their restroom.

Just think — all it takes to have a good romantic Valentine’s Day is a year of planning, three lawsuits and the motivation to never give up. I love Valentine’s Day.
— Frederick A. Shotz, February 2000 issue

Dating Services — Ada Compliant?

Matchmaker in the Market is located up two long flights of hard-tiled stairs in a 100-year-old building with no elevators. The business requires clients to visit its office to fill out questionnaires, conduct video-taped interviews, and scope out the files and videos of other clients who’ve been chosen as potential matches. I suppose the Matchmaker — a woman in her 60s named Noel McLane — fancies herself a modern yenta of sorts, using computer files and her own intuition to pair off her clients.

Two months and a few unsuccessful matches later, when I show up at the bottom of the stairs, I’m met by the same guards who’ve been lugging me up and down, but something has changed. I see it in their faces. “We just got word,” says the leader, “that the market owners won’t let us do this anymore.” I’m not surprised. Up to this point I’ve been relying on their casual goodwill, but all along I’ve felt that fear of injury or lawsuit could put an end to the whole arrangement. This means shifting gears. I’ll have to propose other ways of keeping my face in Matchmaker’s files.

But McLane doesn’t see it that way. With no more than a blunt note she returns my check and informs me I can no longer be her client. I’m not one to be put off so easily, so I email her different options — accommodations — for dealing with the problem.

None of my suggestions seem unusually demanding or inappropriate according to ADA guidelines, but McLane ignores them. I send her a second email, which she also ignores. For the second time she says, “there’s no feasible solution” to the problem. Now I’m getting pissed.

Enter Attorneys

The negotiations become a show of anger and bullying for McLane’s consigliere-style attorney. But the court negotiator is not fooled by his antics. He orders McLane to pay all of my legal fees and expenses, the full refund of my original Matchmaker membership, and a negotiated amount for causing “emotional distress.”

In truth it’s a modest settlement, much less than I’ve asked for, but this is not about employee discrimination for wrongful termination. We’re talking dating. The Matchmaker’s penalties are certainly no threat to her thriving business — in the low five figures. I am still merely an annoyance who will now finally go away. As for myself, the satisfaction of a legal victory, not to mention modest compensation, feels good. I didn’t find what I was looking for from Matchmaker, but I found something of equal value: a greater sense of who I am, of what I represent, and of my valid place in the world.
— Jeff Shannon, May 2001 issue

2005: The View From Three Generations

My husband, George, and I got our first van in 1977. We called it our Independence Van and we had a little camper potty put in because every place we went we couldn’t use the bathrooms. [When the ADA passed] it was very crude at first. You never knew what was accessible and what wasn’t right after the ADA was passed. Businesses were slow getting accessible and we’re still working on that. But now because of the ADA I can go to restaurants, go to a motel and sleep over or whatever I want to do. And I don’t have a potty in my van anymore.
— Mary Ann Beckley, 68 at the time, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania

“Here you go,” says the waitress, a slender woman in her late 30s, placing my coffee and croissant to the right of my computer. “Can I help you with anything else?”

“Actually, it’ll be great if you’ll please set my coffee over to my left,” I say, needing the mug placed to the side where I can most readily lean.

“Sure thing,” she says, moving my coffee, intuitively opening a straw, placing it in the mug, then readjusting it toward me. “Give me a holler if you need anything else.”

The waitress’ gracious, helpful nature impresses me. Public acceptance of my disability still feels new. It seems like it wasn’t more than several years ago when few places were welcoming and accessible to those with disabilities. …

Yet, as time passed, I noticed fewer and fewer inaccessible establishments, a subtle but meaningful movement toward equal access. And here I sit today, almost 15 years after the passing of the ADA, living in an era where there are not only ramps, but also cultural and legal assurances that equality now starts at whatever doors I approach.
— Mark E. Smith, 34 at the time, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The Americans with Disabilities Act passed shortly before I was born. I guess we are maturing at the same pace. There is still a lot of learning and change to occur before it is fully grown and acknowledged. Individuals with disabilities need to be the enforcement agency and power behind this law. Starting from an early age, I learned that there were some places and experiences I could not fully participate in. …

I recently asked my friends what they thought about inclusion. Most didn’t know what I was talking about. They were surprised to learn that my presence in school is not the norm. We go to parties, movies, shopping and use up phone time. I went to a holiday party at a classmate’s home this year. The few students I knew were great at helping me get around the house and dance to the DJ. To them, I am just “Alli,” their friend.
— Allison Cameron Gray, 15 at the time, Southern California