Excerpt from Chapter One
The Gray Line:
Analects of a Disabled Black Man
Disabled Access
The Dreaded Freight Elevator and Other Adventures
In the 1960’s wheelchair access to stores and restaurants was just a
dream. Going to your local store was an adventure, a wondrous trip.
Growing up in an able-bodied world, the person in the wheelchair had to
make compromises. We have come a long way, baby! When I grew up, most of
the major department stores and the local five and dime stores did not
have public elevators. If you wanted to travel down stairs or upstairs,
the journey took you to places no able-bodied shopper has ever been: the
dreaded freight elevator.
This was the elevator nobody else saw or used, except the store or
restaurant employees. One would travel all the way through the store to
a back storage area, passing dark back alleys, the cold wind beating on
your back, backdoors, and many storage bins filled with new materials to
sell. The disabled patron had to call the manager for assistance to
travel up or down store floors. The art of patience really paid off. If
you were in a hurry, forget it.
The manager had to help all the customers in the store first; the
disabled had to wait. While sitting there waiting for this manager, your
mind would begin to wonder: What if I had an accident in the freight
elevator? Would the store’s insurance pay for the hospital costs? Would
they pay for the ambulance to the hospital? Are they covered for the
disabled patron who was in a restricted area of the store?
Those were the good old days. With the passing of Americans with
Disabilities Act (ADA) and the earlier passing of the 504 Laws, these
stores were made accessible to all disabled people.
Restrooms and bathrooms were also an adventure in the sixties. The
disabled either had to go to the restroom before they left home, or wait
until they arrived back home hours later. That meant that bladder
control was a must. I can still remember the many times I rolled fast to
the bathroom in Burlington, after a long night of shopping. It was a
race one does not want to lose.
Some bathrooms were too small to fit any size wheelchair into. I can
still remember getting stuck in a Moorestown Mall bathroom in New
Jersey. My wheels caught the doorframe, and that frame would not turn me
loose. I sat there thinking how am I going to exit this stall. Finally,
a nice young man helped me by pulling the chair straight back and then
out of the stall. I thought I was going to die there in the Moorestown
Shopping Center bathroom.
Also in the good old days, restaurants had a very special place for most
disabled patrons: far back, out of the way, out of sight of other
patrons, and staff.
Most restaurants claimed the wheelchair was a fire hazard. The disabled
became a non-person in their eyes and a problem that most restaurants
didn’t want to deal with. I can still recall the many times I rolled
into an established eating place and the first words out of the waiters’
mouths would be, We have a table for you. This meant the disabled table
and that was where you were seated. Whether you wanted it or not, that
would be true in most restaurant as a policy.
In 1979, Berkeley, California struck a blow against disabled
discrimination. The issue of full access to restaurants was challenged
that year. Two Berkeley disabled residents were denied service because
they would not go to the assigned disabled table. They sued a very
famous restaurant in the Berkeley Marina on grounds of discrimination
and limited access to the restaurant. Restaurant owners across the
country watched this epic court battle in an Oakland Federal Court.
The court, in 1979, awarded these two disabled individuals damages. And
that court made it clear that the restaurant had to make itself
accessible to all people. They could no-longer have a designated table.
It was like the old civil rights days when African Americans ate in one
spot of the restaurant and all others dined elsewhere. Stores, gas
stations, and malls all got the message and changes started all over the
nation.
The fun was over, and I was on my way toward feeling like a normal
person when going to a mall. The elevators are now inside most stores,
not in the back or outside of the building. No more back alleys trips,
no more cold, windy breezeways, no more waiting for managers to help you
get to store floors. Yes, those were the good old days, and while today
it is not perfect, I’ll take the present day any day.
[Chapter One, Pages 27-30]