[Pages S6748-S6749] From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov] CELEBRATION OF THE LIFE OF ED ROBERTS Mr. HARKIN. Mr. President, it was with profound sadness that I learned of Ed's death. On March 14, 1995, not only did the world lose one of our most dynamic and forceful advocates for the rights and empowerment of people with disabilities; on that day, I lost a friend and confidant. Ed Roberts was a kid who lived for baseball when he contracted polio at age 14. He became severely disabled almost overnight, needing large equipment and assistance simply to breathe. Ed overheard the doctor tell his mother that it would be better if he died because he was going to be a vegetable. He decided right then that if he was going to be a vegetable, he would be an artichoke: prickly on the outside with a tender heart. A lot of people told Ed there were a lot of things he could not do. They told him he could not graduate from high school because he could not pass PE or driver's education, so he [[Page S6749]] had to argue with and convince his principal to change these requirements because they were not fair. They told Ed he could not attend the University of California at Berkeley because they had never had a student in a wheelchair, one who used a respirator, or one who slept in an iron lung. Ed fought all that too, and convinced the university to admit him. ``Helpless Cripple Goes to College'' was one of the headlines marking Ed's entrance to college. They made him live in the infirmary. But Ed was not helpless. By the time Ed left UC Berkeley, he and fellow student activists who called themselves the Rolling Quads had organized funding to begin transforming the campus into a model of physical accessibility for students with disabilities. As Ed said, ``We realized that we could change some things, and the first thing we can do is change our own attitudes toward ourselves, be proud of who we were and what we were and go out and change it for others and for ourselves * * * that liberated me when I realized that I can help others. It made me a lot freer to help myself.'' Ed went on to graduate school in political science and taught at UC Berkeley for several years. One of Ed's deans once told him, ``Oh, you'll finish your Ph.D and they you'll live in a nursing home.'' But Ed knew otherwise. He told that dean, ``No, that's not the plan. We're here to change that whole idea.'' And at his memorial service, a representative from the university described him as ``bringing the honor of being the right kind of troublemaker here at Cal.'' Today, over 800 students with many kinds of disabilities attend UC-Berkeley where there are scholarships in his name for undergraduate, graduate, and postdoctoral students with disabilities. After his university years, Ed went on to establish the first Center for Independent Living in the country. Where was it was located? Where else? Berkeley. Today there are over 300 independent living centers all across the country. Independent living is a philosophy which defines independence as full inclusion of people with disabilities in all aspects of community life. Ed lived this philosophy, and he helped others live it as well. His colleague Doug Martin, ADA and 504 compliance officer for UCLA, recently described Ed during the CIL years when he said, ``He believed in us before we believed in ourselves.'' Ed's philosophy of independent living, and his ability to get the money and the people behind it changed our lives. It changed the lives of millions of people in this country and abroad--people with disabilities, their families, their friends and many others who began to see the universality of his approach. As Ed put it, ``I'm paralyzed from the neck down, but I'm completely in control of my own life. I can make decisions about what I want.'' Early on, they told Ed he was unable to be rehabilitated. However, this rehab failure went on to become director of the California State Department of Vocational Rehabilitation. You see, Ed loved to turn barriers upside down, rendering each one a challenge in his own slalom course toward empowerment and independence. And by the end of his tenure in Sacramento, Ed knew he wanted to be a full-time rabble- rouser. Ed told his friend Stephen Hofman, ``I don't want to work. It prevents you from raising hell, and I like to raise a lot of hell * * * After all, if raising hell doesn't work, the only solution is to raise even more hell, and then, they give up!'' As Joe Shapiro wrote in U.S. News & World Report the week after Ed died, ``He knew that it was the paternalism of others, more than his own disability that held him back.'' In 1984, Ed was awarded a MacArthur Genius Fellowship, which he used to live on as he started The World Institute on Disability, a disability policy think tank located in Oakland, CA. Ed testified before committees in Congress numerous times, and many of us grew to know him well. But Ed was not content to be a solo rabble-rouser. He wanted to join forces, debate the issues, hammer out policy and see it implemented in his lifetime. WID was the crucible Ed fashioned with his colleagues for stoking fires and building community. Ed's vision was exemplified in the way he lived his own life, but he also very much believed in empowering others. As one of his colleagues at WID said, ``Part of his star quality was that he always talked about `we'. He always would come up and say `we've got to do that,' `we need people,' `we need to work on this together,' `we can make this happen.''' Ed blew people's minds when he took to the streets of Moscow in his motorized chair in 1993. There, he has become a symbol of freedom, a household word to millions of people with disabilities. But Ed was more than a civil rights hero. He was a man with heart, a man whose love and sense of humor were tools just as powerful as his keen mind and his passion for justice. Ed always took the time to find out how you were doing. He took the time to encourage young students with disabilities to study public policy. He took time to talk with personal assistants about the powerlessness of being underpaid. He took the time to visit other respirator users in the hospital when they were despairing over living independent lives. He took the time to stop on the street and talk with homeless people, people with disabilities that the ``system'' has forsaken. He took the time to laugh, to have an adventure, and always to eat a good meal! Ed did just about everything a person could dream of doing. He got married. He fathered a son--his absolute pride and joy. Ed swam with the dolphins, practiced karate, was almost eaten by a shark, threw tremendous dinner parties, and travelled all over the world. As WID vice president and one of Ed's former proteges, Debby Kaplan said recently, ``He had a determined exuberance for life.'' We are all fortunate to live in this world which Ed so deeply touched, so richly celebrated. Mr. President, I yield the floor. ____________________