The Braille Monitor

Vol. 33, No. 11                                                                                                    October/November 1990

Barbara Pierce, Editor

Published in inkprint, Braille, on talking-book disc, and cassette by

THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND
MARC MAURER, PRESIDENT

National Office
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Baltimore, Maryland 21230

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THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND IS NOT AN ORGANIZATION SPEAKING FOR THE BLIND
--IT IS THE BLIND SPEAKING FOR THEMSELVES

ISSN 0006-8829

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THE BRAILLE MONITOR PUBLICATION OF THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND

Contents

Vol. 33, No. 11                                                                       October/November 1990

THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND: FIVE DECADES OF PROGRESS

NEWSLINE, AN EXCITING DEVELOPMENT

MORE TROUBLE AT THE IOWA DEPARTMENT FOR THE BLIND
by Kenneth Jernigan

THE REHABILITATION SERVICES ADMINISTRATION:
ITS RELATIONSHIP TO BLINDNESS AND CONSUMERISM
by Nell Carney

BUDGET RENT A CAR SEES THE LIGHT

WATCH YOUR PENNIES
by Marc Maurer

LAUGHTER ABOUT BLINDNESS: A DIFFERENT VIEW
by H. G. Jim Burns

BRAILLE: A SURVIVAL SKILL FOR ALL BLIND PEOPLE
by Dawnelle Cruze

DOWN AND OUT IN BERWYN, ILLINOIS: DIALOGUE MAGAZINE GOES UNDER
by Barbara Pierce

UPDATE ON RECORDING FOR THE BLIND

BRAILLE READERS ARE LEADERS CONTEST, 1991

POVERTY AND PROGRESS IN JAMAICA
by Barbara Pierce

REPORT ON POLAND
by James Sanders

SCHOLARSHIPS 1991
by Barbara Pierce

RECIPES

MONITOR MINIATURES

Copyright, National Federation of the Blind, Inc., 1990

[LEAD PHOTOS. PHOTO #1: Jacobus tenBroek standing a podium microphone at 1965 convention, Washington, D.C. CAPTION: The National Federation of the Blind has a rich and varied history. The twenty-fifth anniversary convention held in 1965 at the Mayflower Hotel in Washington, D.C., was one of our most memorable. Dr. Jacobus tenBroek (above) took an active part in the conduct of convention sessions. PHOTO #2: Audience seated during 1965 convention session. CAPTION: Below, conventioneers wait for a general session to be gaveled to order. Those with long memories or good powers of observation may recognize several of those pictured here.]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Participants in the Five Decades of Progress panel—standing (left to right): Michael Baillif, Barbara Walker, Ruby Ryles, Marc Maurer, Ramona Walhof, and Barbara Pierce; seated (left to right): Tim Cranmer, Donald Capps, Joe DeBeer, Hazel tenBroek, and Kenneth Jernigan.]

THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND:
FIVE DECADES OF PROGRESS

From the Associate Editor: On Wednesday morning, July 4, delegates to the 1990 Convention of the National Federation of the Blind had a chance to reflect upon the fifty years of history that the organization celebrated throughout the week. A panel of ten participated by contributing their personal recollections. Dr. Jernigan, who chaired this agenda item, announced that every chapter, state affiliate, and national division was invited to place one item or small packet of material in a time capsule being prepared by the organization for examination in the year 2040. One of the first contributions will be a videotape of the July 4 general convention session. The retrospective segment of the morning's activities began with a twenty-six-minute-long cassette recording recently prepared by Dr. Jernigan and Ronald Meyer, which captures a number of exciting moments in the Federation's history. The tape was played for the audience, which sat transfixed while voices and moments from the past came to life again. The tape is available from the Materials Center at the National Center for the Blind for $2.00. The tape began with an introduction by Dr. Jernigan as follows:

It has been said that the conventions of the National Federation of the Blind resemble nothing quite so much as the gathering of the Scottish clans. We come together to renew friendships, show off our children, engage in feasting (and a little carousing), pray together and have fellowship, celebrate our victories, plan wars, lament our losses, welcome new members to the family, mourn for the departed, make foreign alliances, discuss business, contemplate the future, and remember the past. At our fiftieth anniversary it is especially appropriate that we remember the past.

Following this introductory paragraph, the cassette presented recordings of the call to order of representative Federation conventions back through the years, beginning with President Maurer's opening of the Denver convention in 1989. Then followed recordings of Dr. Jernigan's call to order of the conventions of 1984, 1976, and 1970. Next came Dr. tenBroek's opening of the 1967 convention in Los Angeles and the 1957 convention in New Orleans. Then came recordings from the 1950s.

Dr. Jernigan said:

"In 1956 we met at the Bellevue Hotel in San Francisco. It was the first time we had held a convention on the West Coast. We were in a period of growth—and the hotel could not hold us. We met in the auditorium of the Masonic Lodge, and Dr. tenBroek called the meeting to order."

Next on the cassette were representative excerpts from significant banquet addresses back through the decades.

Dr. Jernigan: The focal point of our National Convention is usually the banquet. Last year in Denver there were so many of us that we not only filled the ballroom but overflowed into the lobby. President Maurer gave the principal address. He said:

"Our words, our thoughts, and our dreams reach for a tomorrow which is bright with promise, and the heart of that promise is the individual determination of each of us and the unshakable power of our vehicle for collective action—the National Federation of the Blind."

Dr. Jernigan then continued: The 1987 convention marked the end of the first year of the Maurer presidency. In his banquet address, he talked of his experiences as a former federal employee. He said:

"Whether it was an airline, an employer, a department of government, or a service agency for the blind, what they said about blindness was always just about the same. I felt right at home. It was exactly like being back at Notre Dame. The blind are courageous; they will get a good grade; no need to work; and plenty of meaningless assignments. But since 1940 there has been a new element, a new force which has changed the balances. You know what it is as well as I do. It is the National Federation of the Blind."

Dr. Jernigan: 1986 was my final convention as President. We were meeting in Kansas City, and the banquet was one of our best. In concluding my banquet addresss I said: "At this convention we have elected a new president. Marc Maurer will make a good president. He will lead the movement with a firm hand, and he will lead with love and maturity. My brothers and my sisters, come! Let us move together into the third generation of our movement."

Dr. Jernigan: In 1981 we met in Baltimore. The National Center for the Blind had been established three years earlier and the delegates toured the facilities with pride. The downpour of rain did nothing whatever to lessen the enthusiasm. In fact, when we went to Washington to meet in our thousands on the Capitol steps, some of us wished for its cooling effects. The banquet was the climax of the convention. I said in the banquet address:

"Among times there is a time that turns a corner, and everything this side of it is new. Times do not go backward. For the blind the corner has been turned, and the time is now. To paraphrase the Biblical statement: Upon the rock of Federationism we have built our movement, and the very gates of hell shall not prevail against it!"

Dr. Jernigan: In 1976 we were meeting once more on the West Coast—in Los Angeles. The banquet was symbolic of the mood of the delegates: reflective and determined. I said in the banquet address: "The road stretches on for decades ahead, and it stretches backward to the nightmare past of slavery and pain. Yes, I say slavery, and I mean exactly what I say. I use the word deliberately, for no black was ever forced with more absolute finality to the sweat of the cane fields or driven with more terrible rigor to the heat of the cotton rows than we have been forced to the broom shops and the backwaters and driven to the rocking chairs and the asylums. Never mind that the custody was kindly meant and that more often than not the lash was pity instead of a whip. It was still a lash, and it still broke the heart and bruised the spirit. It shriveled the soul and killed the hope and destroyed the dream. Make no mistake! It was slavery—cruel, degrading, unmitigated slavery. It cut as deep as the overseer's whip and ground as hard as the owner's boot. But that was the past—another time and another era. This is a new day!"

Dr. Jernigan: In 1973 the Federation met in New York City. We were at the height of our confrontation with the National Accreditation Council for Agencies Serving the Blind and Visually Handicapped (NAC), and we marched to NAC headquarters carrying a coffin for NAC's burial. At the banquet, we talked of the role of the blind in history. This is what I said:

"We've come a long way together in this movement. Some of us are veterans, going back to the forties; others are new recruits, fresh to the ranks. Some are young; some are old. Some are educated; others not. It makes no difference. In everything that matters, we're one; we are the movement; we are the blind.

"Just as in 1940, when the National Federation of the Blind was formed, the fog rolls in through the Golden Gate. The eucalyptus trees give forth their pungent smell, and the Berkeley hills look down at the bay. The house still stands in those hills, and the planes still rise from San Francisco to span the world. But Jacobus tenBroek comes from the house no more, nor rides the planes to carry the word.

"But the word is carried, and his spirit goes with it. He it was who founded this movement, and he it is whose dreams are still entwined in the depths of its being. Likewise, our dreams (our hopes and our visions) are part of the fabric, going forward to the next generation as a heritage and a challenge. History is not against us: The past proclaims it; the present confirms it; and the future demands it."

Dr. Jernigan: In 1990 we have published a history of our first fifty years. Its title is Walking Alone and Marching Together, the concluding lines of the 1968 banquet address. It was the year of Dr. tenBroek's death, and my first year as National President. This is how it went:

"In this time of transition, in this changing of the guard in the affairs of the blind, we might articulate our prospect and our vision by paraphrasing some words from the inaugural address of a recent President of the United States:

"Let the word go out from this place and this moment that the torch has been passed to a new generation of blind Americans, a generation born in this century and fully belonging to it, a generation committed to the belief that all men (seeing or blind) are capable of independence and self-direction, of attaining equality and pursuing happiness in their own way, of serving each other and helping themselves—of walking alone and of marching together. And march together we will!"

Dr. Jernigan: When we met in Los Angeles in 1967, all of us--including Dr. tenBroek—knew that it would be his last convention. He delivered the banquet address. Here is how it ended:

"Through all the years and decades of our existence as an organized movement, for all our splendid success in gaining allies and winning public support, we have faced the persistent opposition of those whom we may rightfully call the "hard-core" custodians. The main thrust of their attack upon us has always been, and is today, that the blind people are not ready for equality—not prepared for the burdens of freedom—not strong enough to stand upright and walk alone down the main streets of society. To this denial of equality by the agencies, the organized blind reply: we are not only equal to you—but we're also equal to your challenge."

Dr. Jernigan: In 1965 we met in the nation's capital, and more than a hundred members of Congress attended the banquet. Dr. tenBroek talked of our first twenty-five years. Here is what he said:

"So this is the twenty-fifth anniversary. It's a long time, and it's a great organization. Twenty-five years—a quarter of a century—how much time is that? In the biography of a social movement, based on justice and equality, it is a measurable segment. In the life of a man—say, from his thirtieth to his fifty-fifth year—it encompasses the best years, the very prime, when experience, energy, intellect mingle in their most favorable proportions, before which he is too young, and after which (pardon me for saying it) he is too old. As a man who spent those twenty-five best years of life in and with the Federation, I have few regrets, immense pride, and boundless hope for the future."

Dr. Jernigan: In 1961 the Federation was torn asunder by civil war. Although the great majority of the members wanted Dr. tenBroek to continue as President, he was sick at heart as he contemplated the internal strife. He came to the podium to report to the members, and his message brought tears to most of those who were present. He said:

"In the past few years I've been called many things and compared to many people. In the February Free Press a new comparison bobbed up: I was compared this time to Julius Caesar. We all know what happened to Caesar. He was assassinated, and it was not just in character. In Shakespeare's version, Marc Antony came to bury him. Today, my friends, I play the role of Marc Antony. I come to bury Caesar. Today, in a few moments, I shall turn over the gavel. When I do, my resignation shall be complete and effective."

Dr. Jernigan: The highpoint of the 1956 convention in San Francisco was Dr. tenBroek's banquet address, "Within the Grace of God." We were in the opening stages of our battle for the right of the blind to organize. None of those who were present will ever forget the memorable climax of Dr. tenBroek's address.

He said:

"In the sixteenth century, John Bradford made a famous remark which has ever since been held up to us as a model of Christian humility and correct charity. Seeing a beggar in his rags groping along a wall through a flash of lightning in a stormy night, Bradford said: "But for the grace of God, there go I." Compassion was shown; pity was shown; charity was shown; humility was shown; there was even an acknowledgement that the relative positions of the two could and might have been switched. Yet despite the compassion, despite the pity, despite the charity, despite the humility, how insufferably arrogant! There was still an unbridgeable gulf between Bradford and the beggar. They were not one but two. How much more consistent with the facts of individual and social life, how much more a part of a true humanity, to say instead: `There, within the grace of God, do go I.'

Dr. Jernigan: In July of 1952 the Federation met in Nashville. It was my first national convention. It was also the first time that we had ever had an address by our President on nationwide radio. Dr. tenBroek spoke on the NBC network:

Announcer: "Blind men and women from all over the nation are gathering today in Nashville, Tennessee, for a four-day convention of their organization, the National Federation of the Blind. In our studios is the President of the National Federation of the Blind, Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, of Berkeley, California. The National Federation of the Blind is the organization of the blind themselves. It is dedicated to the presentation of the problems of blindness as the blind see them, and to the solutions of those problems as the blind have worked them out.

"Dr. tenBroek has been blind since the age of seven. He holds doctoral degrees from the Universities of Harvard and California. He has taught law at the Universities of Chicago and Colorado. For the past ten years he has been a member of the faculty of the University of California and is presently also a member of the California State Social Welfare Board.

"Dr. tenBroek will speak on `The Role of the Blind in a Democratic Society.' NBC takes pleasure in presenting Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, President of the National Federation of the Blind, speaking by transcription from the studios of WSM in Nashville."

Dr. tenBroek: "I should like to ask you to join with me in seeking the answer to what may seem an easy question: Have the blind a right to a place in the sun—or only to a shelter?

"In more convention terms, the subject I shall discuss with you this afternoon is the role of the blind in a democratic society. No doubt that sounds like a simple and straightforward issue, clear enough in its meaning if not in its solution. But I fear that the appearance of simplicity may be greatly misleading; and so before proceeding further I shall ask you to bear with me while I attempt to clarify the principal terms involved—the big word, `democracy,' and that other term, `the blind.'"

Dr. Jernigan: The first recording of Dr. tenBroek's voice that we have was made at the 1952 national convention in Nashville. The banquet was held at the Andrew Jackson Hotel, and Tennessee's Governor Gordon Browning was present to introduce Dr. tenBroek. I was also at that banquet as master of ceremonies. Dr. tenBroek spoke on a familiar theme. This is what he said:

"It is thus no accident that, in the twelve years since the National Federation of the Blind was founded, significant gains have been made in the public assistance field, in vocational rehabilitation, and in other social services which improve the economic lot and cultural integration of the blind. The principles on which the National Federation of the Blind is founded reflect a positive determination to finish the process that has been begun and to effect a complete transformation of the social role of the blind, from helpless, pauperized, and segregated wards, held in social custody, to full and equal members in society as first-class citizens."

Dr. Jernigan: These have been the sounds of the first fifty years of the National Federation of the Blind. When the members gather to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of the movement, perhaps they will remember and once again recall these voices from the past. If so, let this be our message to you of that generation:

We of the first fifty years worked to create a climate of public opinion and opportunity which would permit you to have equal treatment and full citizenship. We leave you a proud heritage and a strong vehicle for collective action. Take this heritage, this vehicle, this National Federation of the Blind. Use it. Cherish it. And never forget your link with those of us who went before you, or your obligation to those who will follow. Remember that no one can give you freedom: You must either take it for yourself, or not have it. This is a lesson which each generation must learn again.

We speak to you from the convention of the fiftieth year, and we send you our love—and our bond of union to last through the centuries.

Following the playing of this tape, Dr. Jernigan introduced the members of the panel, whose job it was to discuss their recollections of the Federation during the decade in which each of them joined the movement. Dr. Jernigan said:

Of course, it would be only appropriate to begin such a presentation by having words from the sole person, so far as I know, who is still alive and who attended the 1940 convention. That person is Hazel tenBroek. Before I put Mrs. tenBroek on, I want to say just a few things to you. You will recall that in a memorable passage in that twenty-fifth anniversary banquet speech, which you just heard, Dr. tenBroek said this: "The Federation was not born with a silver spoon in its mouth. The workers were few, and the cupboard was bare. Each month, if I may be personal for a moment, as we received our none-too-bountiful salary as a young instructor at the University of Chicago Law School, Hazel and I would distribute it among the necessities of life: food, clothing, rent, Federation stamps, mimeograph ink, and other supplies. So did we share our one-room apartment. The mimeograph paper took far more space in our closet than did our clothes. We had to move the mimeograph machine before we could let down the wall bed to retire at night." Now, lest any of you think that the mimeograph machine was merely a legend, let me tell you what the files from the Federation say:

Chicago, Illinois
May 12, 1941

The Young Office Equipment Company
210 North Adams Street

(I don't know whether it's still there or not.)

Chicago, Illinois
Attn.: Mr. R. E. Hoover

Dear Mr. Hoover:

Enclosed please find check number 16 in the amount of $67.94, payment in full on 78A mimeograph machine number 41601 as per contract dated May 7, 1941.

Thank you for your courtesy.

Sincerely,

Jacobus tenBroek

That's what the files say.

I could not pretend to do justice in introducing Mrs.tenBroek. Hazel tenBroek symbolizes the best in us all. She truly deserved to be the first of the first ladies. I have worked closely with her through the years, and she is everything that the legends say she is. Here is Hazel tenBroek. I'm going to hold the clock rigorously on the other members of this panel, but she can talk as long as she wants to.

Hazel tenBroek

This is a joyous time and a difficult time. We begin playing old records, and old memories begin to flood through one's mind. It's hard to sort things out.

I thought I might begin—since I just had permission—to let my mind wander a little more and settle a few old questions that everyone keeps asking.

Why was he called "Chick"? Mr. Riggs, an old gentleman who had been to the blind school with my husband, wrote me a couple of years ago. "We called him Chick because we thought his name was Chicobus." Other people had other ideas, but that is the one that seems to have stuck. It took time for a few of them to realize that he wasn't called Jake. His name was not Jacob but simply the Latin for James. Somehow he never did become Jim.

One amusing result of the James and Jacobus routine was that, when he received his doctorate from Harvard—it was of course all in Latin—his name was properly written, Jacobus tenBroek. It was signed by Jacobus Conant, Jim Conant, who was the president of Harvard at that time. But the amusing thing is that it came addressed to James tenBroek.

Other things sort of wander through the mind at a time like this. There's the story I told to Dr. Jernigan the other morning about historians and history. We all look back through our own tunnels. A couple of friends of mine were discussing this fact. One was a highly renowned specialist in classic Spanish literature, and the other a respected Latin American historian with a world-wide reputation, and the classicist said to the historian, "But Woodrow, it's like this. Historians write the best fiction."

But back to the Federation. The National Federation of the Blind was born of historical necessity, but the birth was no surprise, given the events and the personalities involved. The 1939 amendments to the Social Security Act of 1936 imposed rigidly uniform application of federally dictated requirements on state clients for the Relief of the Poor. In many states these requirements removed more generous provisions than those contained in the federal law. States were thus forced to choose between receiving federal funding and going it alone. In California, for example, retention of certain funds for rehabilitative purposes would have to be sacrificed. Missouri and Pennsylvania, among others, faced similar choices. It was obvious that solutions could no longer be sought only in state houses. Answers would have to be found in the nation's capitol. It was equally obvious that a strong, unified voice of the blind, speaking together through their own democratically chosen representatives, was imperative.

The times were equally fortuitous for those who were to have a hand in forming the instrument to carry out the necessary mandates. Here is a little about the personalities in those times. Wherever he taught, students sought out Jacobus tenBroek for advice, whether he was their assigned advisor or not. These students instinctively knew that he cared. Life seemed to get out of hand for a number of them during the course of any semester, and Professor tenBroek would set them back on course. The most frequent query from these tortured souls was: "Why was I born?" The reply, however gently put, was always the same. "That is not a relevant question. The real question is, now that you're here, what are you going to do about it?" Jacobus tenBroek had been doing something about it all his life.

For the course titled "Do Something About It," Jacobus tenBroek had the most talented, knowledgeable, and brilliant teacher of this century. He was a man well versed in adversity, discrimination, and professional and intellectual rejection. There was no one who could do something about it as well as Dr. Newel Perry. Dr. Perry early realized the value of acting in concert. Soon after the turn of the century, Dr. Perry returned from an extensive sojourn in Europe and settled in New York City. He discovered that the conditions for work and education of the blind were deplorable. It was not long before he organized a group of blind persons to take action. By 1907 the Governor had signed a bill written, introduced, and nursed through the legislature by Dr. Perry and his group. It provided a state scholarship to cover readers for blind students who maintained good grades.

By 1940 Jacobus tenBroek, apt pupil of Dr. Perry, had had his bouts with adversity, discrimination, and intellectual and professional rejection. But he had arrived where he was by doing something about it. The representatives of the seven states gathered in Wilkes-Barre were all ready to do something. It is interesting to note what problems beset the general blind population during the ten years ensuing and how the NFB grew and took on those problems by doing something about them. In 1940 the organization was worried about amendments to the Social Security Act to enable states with more generous programs to retain the federal contribution. From the August 9, 1941, convention minutes, we note that states newly joined were Nebraska, Iowa, Louisiana, Washington, and Colorado. A number of others were announced as on the way.

In 1941 legislation was proposed to strike the clause authorizing the state agency to consider other income and resources of the recipient. Also introduced was legislation to strike the word "needy" from the Social Security Act and set a minimum pension of thirty dollars. There was a report of the finance committee, talk about ways to increase membership, and discussions of the need for representation in Washington, D.C. By August of 1941 there were resolutions about vending stands; employment policy; placement in employment and gainful employment; and, of course, exempt income. Later in the decade civil service, special needs, responsibility of relatives, discrimination, and wages in sheltered shops were added to the list. If you look at that list, you can see that was quite an agenda for the first decade.

In 1948 the minutes note, "After much discussion the president was instructed to find means to establish a monthly Braille or print publication of the NFB." It went on, "Also stated was the fact that states should support `the All Story legislative supplement,'" which Dr. Perry had convinced the American Brotherhood for the Blind to let him do. In the Federation it's always been communicate or perish. In the Federation, too, we must look to the past only for such strength as it gives us to go forward in the work we must all do. Let's go do that, and let's go do something about it.

Dr. Jernigan: Now we move to the next representative from the forties. Joe DeBeer was not present at the 1940 convention. Mrs. DeBeer was. Joe was unable to attend, but very shortly he was not only present at the convention but an officer in this organization. Many things happened in those early days. Before introducing Joe DeBeer to you, I want to give you some flavor of it. I have, as you will gather, dug through the files. I cannot speak from personal knowledge about the early forties. I joined this organization in 1949 and attended my first national convention in 1952. However, I have, as I say, dug into the files.

During 1990 we've worked with the National Library Service and others, attempting to institute a system insuring that teachers of blind children will know how to read and write Braille and requiring proof that teachers really possess that skill. I didn't sit through all of the Resolutions Committee meeting, so I don't know whether we have a resolution on Braille competence or not; but, if we don't, we might have done one—oh, something like this:

WHEREAS, many teachers have been given positions teaching the blind without a knowledge of Braille:

Now, therefore,

BE IT RESOLVED, by the National Federation of the Blind in annual convention assembled that we strongly recommend that no person be appointed in any school to teach the blind who has not successfully passed a rigid examination in the arts of writing and reading Braille Grade II and that this provision be made a statute in the several states.

We might write such a resolution, or perhaps we could just dig out the one that was passed in Baltimore in 1948, which is what I just read you. So the problem and the commitment have been with us for a long time.

In 1941 the files tell me that there were 104 persons present at the convention in Milwaukee. I believe that was Joe DeBeer's first convention. The files tell me that our best estimates as an organization were that in the entire United States only 5,000 blind people were actually employed in any way—sheltered, whatever—that's all there were.

With that as a background, Joe DeBeer is from Minnesota. I want to introduce him to you now to talk about the Federation as he saw it in the early days. One of the early pioneers, here is Joe DeBeer of Minnesota.

Joe DeBeer

Dr. Jernigan, President Maurer, members of the Board, and Federationists: I would like to mention a few things about the changes that took place in the first ten years of the National Federation of the Blind.

In 1939 we had a new governor in the state of Minnesota. He recommended that the blind get $21 a month for board and room. We went in to the governor and told him that was a cut in what we were receiving, and no person could live on it. He said, "I have no time for working with a bunch of blind people." So he told us to get out of the office. His secretary told him that was no way to do. So three days afterwards, we were there picketing the capitol for three days. We had papers printed saying exactly what the blind were receiving and what the governor recommended. In a few days someone told him that he'd better call in the blind because we had called the Associated Press, United Press, and all the radio stations we could get hold of. So he called and said, "Tell Mr. DeBeer we are ready for the committee." In the meantime, I had talked to the League of Women Voters. So we came with one hundred ladies of the League, twenty from organized labor, and seventy-five blind. They said, "How many are on your committee?" I said three hundred, so they had to open the sliding doors. It took a little longer to get the meeting started. The result was that, instead of getting a cut of ten dollars, we got a raise of twelve dollars.

In the beginning we worked very hard to get a White Cane Law passed. When companies were working on the sewer system, they never had barricades on the sidewalks. Several injuries resulted. It was the National Federation of the Blind that saw to it that they were compensated for their injuries. After that all the companies put up barricades when they were working on sidewalks because there was a great deal of publicity about it.

In the beginning it was very difficult to get an apartment because the sighted public had an idea that blind people were a fire hazard. So in big cities they would buy a hotel (an old, unfireproof building) that would house the blind. To the surprise of the public, no fires resulted, and in a short time you never heard any more that blind people are more of a fire hazard than the sighted public.

There was very little reading material available. Everything was Grade One or Grade One-and-a-half. Grade Two Braille was entirely too complicated for blind people to learn. The blind did not agree. So in the late 1940s some Federationists and other people wrote in that they wanted more Grade Two Braille inserted in the magazine. It was the Matilda Ziegler Magazine, I believe, that was the first magazine in Braille; and I have been a subscriber to it for over sixty years. Today, everything is in Grade Two Braille.

Then came the first recorder. It recorded on a spool of wire a little thicker than a human hair; and, when that got tangled, it really was a big mess. I had a spool of wire one time that got tangled, and it took me two hours to straighten it out. The wire recorder didn't stay on the market too long. Then we got the first tape recorder. It played automatically. It had a little crank with it that you could insert in the cassette so you could rewind it by hand. Shortly after that a fully automatic recorder came on the market—a great improvement. Now, of course, the American Printing House for the Blind recorder plays six hours on a cassette, and the voices are very natural. The greatest improvement is the amount of material that is available from the Library of Congress. For the first time the blind have almost the same opportunity that the sighted have had for years.

I interviewed some of the blind—a new organization. I think they went into the investment business. Some Federationists are very successful at it. I play at it a little bit once in a while. I believe that the younger blind have much more of an opportunity to get into the mainstream of life than we had fifty years ago. Thank you, Dr. Jernigan.

Dr. Jernigan: I want to let you hear something that Joe DeBeer may not remember. Joe, the 1944 convention in Cleveland, if you will remember, was recorded in the way that we recorded things in those days—that is, you had a court reporter there who took it down word for word. I want to read you a paragraph, Joe, that is titled Joe DeBeer Statement. Here's what you said in 1944. It's a fine statement. It shows you something of the mettle and the caliber of the people who set this outfit up.

"Mr. Chairman," he said, "we had several restaurants in Minnesota where they didn't allow guide dogs, and we asked about it and were told that they said, unless it was public property, they paid their taxes, and they owned the building. If they didn't want the dogs in there, they could keep them out. But we got around it by giving them publicity. The only way to do it there was to make it miserable for them." And his final sentence, "They didn't like the publicity, so they allowed the dogs to come in."

We're going to move on through the decades. Let me go back a little bit, though, to the records for you. This is our heritage. We ought to know about it.

Dr. Newel Perry was really quite an individualist and a rugged one. He would need to have been in those days. May 14, 1941, he wrote a letter to Dr. tenBroek, one sentence of which said, "a ship load of blinded soldiers, returning home from Europe, would stimulate our cause a good deal."

That's May 14 of 1941, you see.

April 12 of 1941, he said this to Dr. tenBroek. This was when Dr. tenBroek was getting some criticism from certain blind people about forming the Federation. So we were formed November 15 and 16, 1940. As of April 12, Dr. Perry said in his own terse way, "Waste no time in arguing with blind cranks. Thank them all graciously and ignore their criticism."

As I say, such is the caliber of the people who set this outfit up. I'll let you hear some other data, and then we'll go to the next decade. At the 1941 convention, as I say, there were 104 persons present. In 1942 the record says, "This committee estimates that the necessary budget of the National Federation of the Blind for the coming year will be $5,500." Signed, Dr. Newel Perry; Frank W. Hall (Minnesota); Emil Arndt (Wisconsin), the first treasurer.

1943. This is one you'll find interesting. You will observe, in one of the appendices in our book, that there were no conventions listed for 1943 or 1945. "Federation Executive Committee votes to comply (this is '43) with government request to postpone the 1943 convention. The Office of Defense Transportation has requested (this is a letter that Dr. tenBroek sent out to the members) the National Federation of the Blind and all other associations to hold no conventions this year unless such conventions are deemed necessary to promote the war effort. The Office of Defense Transportation has left it up to each organization to decide whether its meeting is essential in the war effort. President tenBroek has polled the members of our Executive Committee, and the Committee almost unanimously voted to postpone our 1943 convention." So this was postponed.

1946. "Gross income, National Federation of the Blind: (See if this sounds familiar to you) Gross income, $6,156.41. Gross expenses, $6,276.35. Deficit, $119.40." We've always been fighting to have enough money to survive on.

1946. "The banquet will be held Thursday evening (still Thursday there) at seven o'clock. Reservations, $1.50 per plate," it said. On the other hand, a dime then would buy you more than a dollar will now.

1947. "The rates for rooms at the hotel are as follows:

Single rooms run from $3 to $5.25 (we, by the way, are doing better than inflation on that one) with the majority in the $3 class and the $3.25. Double rooms are $4.50 to $6.75 with the majority posted at $4.50. Twin bedrooms run from $5.25 to $7.25. Banquet tickets (remember, we were in 1947, and inflation is setting in) Banquet tickets will cost $2."

1949. "Single rooms (this was in Denver—'46, of course, was St. Louis; '47, Minneapolis; '48, Baltimore; '49 would have been Denver; and '50, Chicago) Single rooms, $3.50 in 1949 to $6. Double rooms, $6 to $8 (double bed), double rooms, $7 to $9 (twin beds)."

For whatever it's worth, in 1946, Kansas became the twenty-third affiliate; 1948, Kentucky became the twenty-seventh affiliate. By 1952 there were thirty-one affiliates.

1949. I want to give you just quickly the 1949 attendance by state to let you see how your state ranks nowadays with what you were in '49. Alabama, three people attended. Arizona, one person. California, sixteen people. Colorado (remember, we were in Denver, so this is the host affiliate), twenty-nine. Illinois, eighteen people. Iowa, two people. Kansas, three people. Kentucky, two. Maryland, one. Michigan, eleven. Minnesota, one of the big seven, the first ones starting it, seventeen. Missouri, also one of those seven, (so was California, of course) ten. New York, five. New Jersey, one. Ohio, in 1949 you had three people. Oklahoma, you had three. Oregon, you had two. Pennsylvania, you were one of the first seven; (it's different today) you had one person in attendance in Denver. Tennessee had four. Wisconsin had twenty. And Vancouver had one. Totaling 153, I'm told here. I didn't take time to count them. I assume those additions are correct. That gives you something of the color of the forties. The heritage is one of which we can be proud.

Let us now move to the fifties. How many of you, by the way, attended your first NFB convention in the forties, say aye. [scatter of single voices] How many of you attended first in the fifties, say aye. [small but enthusiastic chorus] I'll tell you, so did I. Our ranks are becoming thinner. How many of you in the sixties, say aye. [shout from many voices] The seventies. [louder shout from many more people] The eighties. [roaring noise] The nineties. [a shout comparable to that for the seventies] Okay, the future is secure. [cheers, laughter, and applause]

All right, here we come to the 1950's. I first met this man early in that decade. In fact, I had (we wouldn't have called it dinner) I had supper at his home early on in that decade. He's now the esteemed chairman of our Research and Development Committee. From Kentucky, I want to introduce to you next Tim Cranmer.

Tim Cranmer

Let me tell you, this assignment is fraught with danger. I have no idea what he may pull out of the hat—or the records. Oh heavens—he threatens me. He has quotes from me.

Dr. Jernigan called some weeks ago and asked if I would participate in some reminiscing about the fifties. And I guess my only qualification is the fact that I was there. My memory is not as good as I would like. However, looking back on it, I can say to you that there were three factors that have lasted in my memory, probably cherished more each year. It was during the fifties that I met the people of the Federation—the people that brought it together, that made it work, and that had the greatest impact on my life. I will only mention three, and those three only briefly.

Dr. tenBroek was the first national leader that I had the privilege of meeting. You already know what a powerful orator and charismatic leader he was. I knew that when I first met him. What I didn't realize was how he worked on you in person, one on one or in a small group. And so it was the days just before the convention in Louisville that we met with Dr. tenBroek and went to dinner. He told jokes like ordinary human beings, and he laughed. You know, he had a physical condition that set him apart from all other people—he wore a goatee. We had much fun with him about that. But it was during those off hours and those off moments that I acquired a dedication and a love for this man who founded our movement. Throughout his life he continued to have a profound impact upon me.

There are two Kentuckians who were present at the first convention and, I think, at all the conventions of the fifties. They will be remembered by you, but not so well, I'm sure, and not with the same dedication that I have. Harold Reagan was our state president and a member of our National Board and certainly a leader long to be remembered. He is still quoted in Kentucky. He is still referred to frequently as the authority on the history and the philosophy of the Federation and as the mentor of all of us. The only other person from Kentucky that I would mention is Bob Whitehead. He came on in the late fifties in a leadership role, and he became our state president and served on our National Board. He, too, continues to be an inspiration to all of us.

There were issues in the fifties, and they were not too different from the issues of today. Basically they were issues of discrimination. The one that affected me most dealt with employment. We were trying to open the federal register for civil service examinations so that blind men and women could seek and compete for federal employment. That was the year I first entered state work as a placement counselor. Every day I was going out, facing the employers and trying to persuade them to hire blind people, trying to demonstrate their competence. Among the employers that I was calling on were the federal agencies. So, when the national convention came to our city and was talking about the issue of breaking into the federal register, I was a ready supporter and was there with them.

On the less political side, I want to say to you that the experience of the first convention has stayed with me today, and it is manifested in my walking and in my carrying proudly my white cane. Because it wasn't until that year at that convention, the first convention of my experience, that I realized it was okay to be blind.

That's the main thing I learned. In closing, I want to make just one other observation. I'm asked often by interviewers for one kind of quote or another: What was the most important thing in the last twenty or thirty or forty years in the lives of the blind? What's the most important technology today? What can we look for in the future as the most important thing? And I would say to you that I have three answers to that. The most important thing in my past was the National Federation of the Blind. The most important thing in my present life is the National Federation of the Blind. And you can help me answer, what is the most important thing in our future? The National Federation of the Blind! Thank you, Dr. Jernigan.

Dr. Jernigan: Thank you, Tim. We will have to move. I see that we're moving in on time very sharply, but we have more people to hear from.

Also in the fifties, a man that I met mid-decade, from South Carolina, the senior member of the National Board at the present time (I believe his first convention was 1956, a memorable convention). When I think of Don Capps, I think of integrity. Don Capps is a member, a Board Member, a leader of this organization whom we can be proud of. Don has reminiscences, I'm sure, of the fifties. I want to introduce him now. Here's Donald Capps.

Donald Capps

Dr. Jernigan, President Maurer, Mrs. tenBroek, fellow Federationists: It's a signal honor for me to have this tremendous opportunity to participate in this golden anniversary convention of the National Federation of the Blind and to discuss the decade of the fifties. I like to think of it as the fabulous fifties. They really were in many respects.

This is the thirty-fifth consecutive annual convention of the National Federation of the Blind that I have attended. Incidentally, in thinking about the centennial anniversary convention, I see no reason why I shouldn't join Dr. Jernigan. And, Dr. Jernigan, I'm prepared to sign a pact with you to be present in 2040 for that convention if it's agreeable with you.

There were four of us in 1956 from South Carolina, attending the national convention in San Francisco. Of course there was Betty, who's always been at my side, and then there was Lois Bolden Tucker and her sister, Lucille Townshend. Incidentally, At the 1956 convention Lois Bolden Tucker saw a PBX Braille switchboard for the first time in her life. She was fascinated. For some years Lois had struggled in a low-paying vending facility and wanted a career change. When she returned to South Carolina, arrangements were made for her to have that training, and she secured a job through the assistance of the Federation. There was no Job Opportunities for the Blind program in 1956, but I believe that that was an early JOB success. It has made a tremendous difference in her life. She served as a Braille switchboard operator for more than thirty years and has recently retired.

Betty and I, along with Lois and Lucille, made the long, 3,000-mile trip across the country from South Carolina to California in a 1954 Chevrolet that was mortgaged to the hilt. There was no air conditioning in that fifty-four Chevrolet—not many automobiles in 1954 had air conditioning. And it got hot; it got mighty hot before we arrived in California. It took about a week to go across the country.

In 1956 I met the two real mental giants in this beautiful movement you and I know today as the National Federation of the Blind: Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, our distinguished founder, and Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, our long-time leader.

I recall very clearly the magnificent banquet address Dr. tenBroek delivered at the 1956 convention entitled "Within the Grace of God." It really made a tremendous impression on me. I was so fascinated and interested in that speech that, when I returned home to Columbia, I went to the radio station, and I persuaded them to broadcast it. Dr. Jernigan, I suppose that was one of the first public service announcements, lasting more than thirty minutes.

I was fortunate enough to be invited as a state leader to a seminar at the University of California immediately following the 1956 convention. We discussed many things pertaining to blindness and programs for the blind and about state and federal laws affecting those programs. That seminar had a tremendous impact upon me. I recall very clearly the woeful inadequacies of programs for the blind. These revelations disturbed my soul so deeply that I declared that, once I returned to South Carolina, I would do my very best to change the situation.

I learned other things in 1956 of equal value. Like Tim Cranmer, for the first time I truly accepted the concept fostered by the NFB that it is respectable to be blind.

I also learned another important truth in 1956--that as Federationists we must put service above self. You cannot be a complete Federationist if you do not put service above self. As a matter of fact, the 1956 convention breathed new life into me as a blind person.

In 1955 there were thirty-three state affiliates. In 1956 nine new state affiliates joined the National Federation of the Blind, and our ranks became forty-two. Soon there would be forty-eight, then fifty, and ultimately fifty-one with the District of Columbia. As you can see, long before many of us, people were out there on the barricades, recruiting members and state affiliates, and we owe a debt of gratitude to them.

As our ranks grew, so did our prestige, influence, and power to the extent that they troubled the established blindness system in those days. Many sheltered workshop managers and agency directors resented the power and positions which we took concerning what was best for the blind of the nation. Soon it became apparent that we needed to do something about intimidation and reprisals. If blind sheltered workshop employees and blind staff members of agencies throughout the country dared to join the National Federation of the Blind in the fifties, they were intimidated; threatened with reprisals; and, in some cases, dismissed. It was in 1957 that the Right to Organize bill was introduced into the Senate by then Senator John F. Kennedy and into the House by Congressman Walter Baring from Nevada. That legislation had two cardinal provisions. One, the blind have the right to organize without interference and harassment by administrators of programs for the blind. Two, the blind have the right to speak and be heard. While that legislation never became law, it received such widespread coverage and endorsement that the concept expressed in the legislation became a reality.

In any large organization which develops tremendous influence, there are times when there are family problems. There were difficulties in the 1950s, ultimately referred to as our Civil War. At the New Orleans convention in 1957, when I was still a rookie, I was invited to the suite of one Durward McDaniel, who developed into one of the key players in the coming strife. Although I was inexperienced and without a great deal of knowledge about the internal workings of the National Federation of the Blind—after all, I had been a member for only one year—Mr. McDaniel discussed with me the merits of amending the national constitution. He spoke of making it more democratic in character, of limiting the times and terms of officers. It sounded sensible to me at that time, but I soon learned that it wasn't that he was concerned about the democratic process, but that he had lost the nomination for second vice president a year earlier.

I recall, as the civil war developed and more and more of us were becoming concerned about the effectiveness of the National Federation of the Blind, there was a very important convention in 1959 in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The nominating committee got under way at about midnight, following a long day's convention. That nominating committee meeting lasted until three a.m. My colleague that year, Mildred Kirkland of Charleston, served on the nominating committee, so I got much more sleep than Mildred and some others got. The next morning, as the elections came up, Mildred punched me and said, "Oh, by the way, Don, you were nominated for Second Vice President last night."

The NFB survived the internal strife and the civil war. We came out of that unfortunate period much stronger and more united. We were strengthened in character, spirit, and soul.

Despite strife and civil war, the National Federation of the Blind in the fifties began to receive recognition from various state and federal officials. Several governors invited the NFB to send in teams to evaluate their programs. I had the privilege of participating in a 1958 survey of the West Virginia agency for the blind. Betty and I were assigned the opportunity and privilege of calling on blind persons who were recipients of what was referred to then as ANB—you guessed it, Aid to the Needy Blind. Now that has been made more sophisticated in recent years because they refer to it as SSI today. But I recall very clearly more than thirty years ago that Betty and I would complete the day's work and return to our hotel room to reflect upon the plight of the blind of West Virginia. And if I needed anything to inspire me to go forward, West Virginia certainly helped. In that year our son Craig was three years old, and our daughter Beth was three months old, and there was scarcely money for travel, much less for personal needs. We had to scrape up the money to pay for a baby sitter to take care of the kids while we were gone for a week. So we have progressed, and we have a strong and viable heritage. I would challenge you to do the following: There is nothing more rewarding than to recruit a new member for your chapter, your state, and for the National Federation of the Blind. When you leave this golden anniversary convention, go back home and get to work on it. Thank you.

Dr. Jernigan: Now, we have six people left. I'm going to hold the clock tightly on you. The first four have been indulged by the chair because it's a proper thing to do. We're coming down now to recent times, coming to the sixties. And so you're going to get somewhere between four and five minutes, and not one second more. Therefore, time yourselves if you will.

The first one of those is a current member of the National Board. She attended her first convention in the 1960's. She has made many contributions to this organization and is one of the most vibrant of the leaders at the present time. I want to introduce to you the president of the NFB of Idaho, Ramona Walhof.

Ramona Walhof

Dr. Jernigan came to Iowa in 1958 as Director of the Iowa Commission for the Blind. He regarded it as a Federation job. I graduated from high school in 1962 and became one of Dr. Jernigan's students. I heard about the Federation but did not join and was not urged to go to the national convention in Detroit that year. Later I asked Dr. Jernigan why that was. And he explained that the last several conventions had been so terribly difficult that there was real concern about inviting new people until it was certain that the bitter squabbling was completely over.

Dr. tenBroek visited us in Des Moines on his way to California from Europe. He had been attending the meeting of the World Council for the Welfare of the Blind. Dr. tenBroek's visit was impressive and a bit flattering, but I had no desire to get involved in another group of blind people right then.

Dr. Jernigan used to maneuver me into doing things I would rather not have done. I suggested that there should be a sewing class at the Iowa Commission for the Blind, and I was told to go and buy sewing machines. I had no desire to go on this trip, and I didn't know how to buy sewing machines. But I went, and we got the job done, as Ruth Schroeder (the home ec teacher) will tell you.

I went to college in Washington, D.C., and in 1965 the convention came to me. Vice President Hubert Humphrey and Robert Kennedy both made appearances at that convention. Nearly one hundred Congressmen and Senators attended the banquet.

Dr. tenBroek's banquet address was "The Federation at Twenty-Five." I learned two important things at that convention. One was that the Federation needed me, and the other was that I needed the Federation. And that's what surprised me. The Federation needed me. Those two things are still the most important for everyone of us in the organization.

In 1965 I met Gysbertus Veldhuizen from Wisconsin. I had learned the Iowa lessons of independent cane travel and self-confidence. Mr. Veldhuizen taught me about other techniques. I had never considered them. He said, "I have been encouraged to learn independent travel and would like very much to do so, but I haven't had time, and I can hire all the help I need." He paid a full-time guide to accompany him to the convention and ran a very successful business. It was the first time I had ever met a blind person who was rich.

Gysbertus Veldhuizen also told me about when he and his family moved to the United States from the Netherlands. He was five years old at the time. The family was retained on Ellis Island for several days. Why? Because Gysbertus was blind. That made a deep impression on me and caused me again to want to do what I could for the Federation and the blind.

At the convention in Los Angeles in 1967 we formed the Student Division of the NFB. It is hard to believe now but from outside of Iowa there were only three blind college students at the convention.

During the next year the Student Division wrote the first NFB book, The Handbook for Blind College Students. We were learning everything from scratch. We had to learn about printing and binding and distributing. We ordered 500 copies of the Handbook and wondered what we would ever do with them all. Almost immediately the Library of Congress ordered 500 copies of the Handbook, and we had to print some more. No one was as amazed as the officers in the Student Division.

Shortly after the 1967 convention Jim Gashel and I (Jim Gashel was the president of the Student Division and I was the secretary) went to Montreal to do some work. After we returned home, Dr. Jernigan phoned Dr. tenBroek so we could tell him about the trip. Dr. tenBroek was warm and enthusiastic. He asked what country we were planning to do next. We told him we were considering some organizing of members in Illinois, where there was no affiliate. His answer was immediate. He said, "Well, that's a foreign country."

The NFB had affiliates in fewer than forty states in 1967. Members of the Student Division helped to organize many during the next six years. Sometimes it was like going to a foreign country. We talked to people who were thrilled and happy to meet with us and others who were hostile and angry. There were still deep scars left from the NFB civil war.

I myself helped to organize in Illinois, Kansas, Tennessee, North Carolina, Michigan, and Washington State during 1968 and '69. Some individuals who attended those conventions and those organizing meetings are very well known today. They are Rami Rabby, Steve Benson, Allen Harris, and Hazel Staley.

I first met President Maurer in 1969--you guessed it—at an organizing meeting, this time in Michigan. Also in 1967 the NFB of Idaho succeeded in getting the legislature to create the Idaho Commission for the Blind. It was an impressive accomplishment, and there were only two or three members from Idaho at the national convention. It was hard to understand how they had succeeded. One of them was Chuck Walhof, who later became my husband. He told me how it worked. Ten or fifteen blind people without training or much sophistication went to the legislature every single day until the bill passed late in the session. They sat in the House and the Senate galleries, and they talked to the Senators and Representatives every chance they got. They believed it was persistence that worked.

This gave the Federation the opportunity to make a huge improvement in another state agency for the blind. I was fortunate enough to be in Idaho soon after it all got started. The 1960s were an exciting time to be in the Federation. We knew that what we were doing affected blind people, and we ourselves were learning and gaining confidence every step of the way. In many ways the Federation really hasn't changed since then.

Dr. Jernigan: Okay, we're moving along through the decades. The next person I'm going to introduce really needs no introduction from me. He serves as President of this organization, and, Mr. President, you have four minutes, and no more.

President Maurer

Thank you, Sir. One thing I wonder about as I come to this particular meeting of the Federation. When I joined the organization, I used to listen at night to the words of Dr. tenBroek, and they encouraged me. I wonder what he listened to.

I joined the National Federation of the Blind in 1969. The first convention I attended occurred in Columbia, South Carolina, at the Wade Hampton hotel. In some senses the Federation of that day no longer exists, but the underlying urgency for self-organization, the goals to be achieved, and the spirit of our movement are the same today as they were then. I was just out of high school and wondering what my life would be like. I had imagined working in a carpenter's shop. The convention was a revelation. I had not known that blind people could be engaged in such a wide variety of occupations. This revelation occurs again and again. The wonder I felt at my first Federation banquet is a part of me today. I sat in the banquet hall with my blind brothers and sisters and heard Dr. Jernigan proclaim for all of us our intention to gain independence, to achieve genuine productivity, to secure our freedom.

When I was growing up, I don't remember anybody's telling me that blind people were second-rate. But even without hearing it directly, I got the idea. My teachers believed that my performance in school, while they said it was impressive enough, wasn't really very important. I was a blind student. You could expect high achievement from some students but not from the blind. My future, according to them, was circumscribed by a very limited set of opportunities. Although I would not have admitted it, I felt the same way.

I swam a great deal as a boy. A mile was no problem. It took only time. One afternoon, I came to the pool I had been using for years. A lifeguard who didn't know me well asked me to stay out of the deep water. He said that as a blind person I would be more difficult to watch. I thought the request was odd. But I complied. I didn't know any better.

Today I ask myself, what made it so difficult? Blind people are not harder to spot in the water, they are not more transparent, and they are not smaller. Yet I accepted his explanation and swam in the shallow water.

But those were the sixties, and these are the nineties. When I came to the national convention, the whole atmosphere was different. Sometimes the message was driven home directly. You can be productive and you had better work hard to insure that you are. Sometimes the behavior of the people involved was more significant than the words they used. I had never before been asked to take an active part in an enterprise of such far flung objectives, such combined resources, and so many members. My opinion counted. The Federation leadership and members said to me, "Come, help us make the lives of the blind better," and they meant it. Although there were several hundred people at the convention in 1969, the voice of Dr. Jernigan spoke specifically and directly to me. The Federation was personal. It still is. Hundreds of us at that wonderful meeting felt that the problems we faced were those of the Federation, and those of the Federation were ours. We still feel that way.

Today our movement is bigger than it was when I joined. In 1969 our National Office consisted of a few small rooms at the Randolph Hotel Building in Des Moines. A few more than 700 people attended the banquet that year. The convention agenda was less than half the length of the one we are now using. There were only half a dozen committees and three divisions. Twenty-five committees and sixteen divisions accomplish much of the integrated work of the organization in 1990. Our National Office is the largest facility of its kind in the nation. We number our convention participants in the thousands, not the hundreds.

But with all of our expansion, with all of our growth and progress, and with all of the changes we have made, the National Federation of the Blind is still the same organization that I joyfully met in the sixties.

Shortly after becoming a member, I began my studies at the university. One day a letter intended to persuade students not to smoke was delivered. It said that smoking was largely a visual pleasure. Blind people, the writer believed, didn't smoke as much as the sighted because they didn't have the enjoyment of watching the smoke rings. After reading this letter, I was glad that the National Federation of the Blind had been established, that it was alive and well, and that I was a part of it. The problems we as blind people faced were too great to be solved by a single individual or a small group. They still are. But with collective action there isn't any difficulty we can't resolve. This is what I felt in 1969. That feeling is still with me, and there are many thousands of Federation members who share this determination. Our increased size and diversification have not dampened our enthusiasm. In fact, the very opposite has occurred. With the experience of the years we have gained fervor and determination. The wonderful fellowship of the Federation and the objectives for which we are striving have not changed. There is a song. It is called "The Wheeler Dealers." The last line says, "As long as we've got money, that's enough."

It isn't, but there's another thing that it brings to mind. As long as we're the National Federation of the Blind, that's enough.

Dr. Jernigan: Thank you very much. We now move to the next decade. I have first urged, then cajoled, and now I will wield the gavel strongly and firmly.

The seventies. The two Barbaras are going to talk to us for the seventies. And they're both fine people, as you know as well as I. They are both state presidents. One of them, the first, is my esteemed colleague, who is Associate Editor of the Braille Monitor and who also handles our public relations at these conventions. I first met her quite a number of years ago. She can tell you about that if she wants to or anything else in four minutes. Barbara Pierce.

Barbara Pierce

Luckily, President Maurer has just said a good bit of what I intended to say, which will help me with my four minutes. Because I think it's important. As I trace for you what I saw happen in the seventies, you will see the kind of growth that took place during that decade.

At the beginning of 1974, I had only vaguely heard of the National Federation of the Blind. I had read some publications by the American Foundation for the Blind, and I knew that there was a gaggle of hysterical fanatics out there on the edge of rational human activity, known as the National Federation of the Blind, and that's about all I knew. Then someone brought a stack of literature to my home, and it was the most amazing phenomenon I have ever experienced—that weekend that I spent reading and being converted to Federationism.

I should tell you that Dr. Jernigan informs me that at that time, the Braille Monitor had a circulation of roughly three thousand. Today that circulation is thirty thousand. Just a zero's difference. I can tell you that I waited every month for that magazine to get to my door. I consider that I was extremely lucky to be one of the three thousand who were reading it at that point.

These are the kinds of things that I was learning about. I didn't know anything about blind people. I had stayed away from them. But I began to learn about these things. The Cleveland Society for the Blind—I live thirty miles from the Cleveland Society, which was telling blind vendors when to change their underwear. The Minneapolis Society for the Blind was making people like Lawrence Kettner sign waivers on their minimum wages because the staff had arranged things so that they couldn't work efficiently in the sheltered workshop, so they went out by themselves and found competitive employment at significantly higher wages with the help of the National Federation of the Blind. Dr. Jernigan had just finally thrown in the sponge after a period of martyrdom, serving as the only voice of rationality on the NAC board, the National Accreditation Council for Agencies Serving the Blind and Visually Handicapped.

By the end of the seventies, we were beginning what we called then the cane wars. We began to have our troubles with the airlines in the seventies. Those were the issues that we were struggling with at that time. And how were we financing our work? Well, those of you who were around in the seventies will remember the Ludwig Candy Company. Remember that name? You all think that you have a lot of candy surrounding you now with the M & M's (which Ohio is selling) and the other candy for sale, but I'm telling you the entire National Federation of the Blind was selling Ludwig candy in the mid-seventies.

We've progressed further. The seventies also saw the beginning of the PAC Plan, the Pre-Authorized Check Plan. That's when we started to get serious about how we were going to raise money to allow this movement to have an annual budget of over the $5,500 a year that Dr. Jernigan referred to earlier.

We began the leadership training seminars in the seventies. The first of those took place in 1973. These were long weekends in which people got together with Dr. Jernigan and learned as much as we could, like little sponges sopping up what our history has to teach us and how this organization functions, so that we could go out and be leaders across this nation. And that program has made a profound difference.

The Washington Seminars began in the seventies. We began going to Washington in an organized way and having an effect on Congress. And we began NAC-Tracking in the seventies: traipsing around after NAC and standing outside, telling the public what was going on.

We had our troubles in the seventies, too. There were a few people who thought they'd try a rerun of the civil war, and we simply dealt them out in a big fat hurry and went on with our work.

The end of the seventies, I think, says it all. We started with a readership of 3,000 or so on the Braille Monitor. We ended with the National Center for the Blind in Baltimore, Maryland. It was quite a decade, brothers and sisters. Thank you very much.

Dr. Jernigan: A heritage indeed to be proud of. Now, for the other representative of the decade of the seventies. She is a person, again, who is quiet, unassuming, but steady and firm. President of the NFB of Nebraska, here's Barbara Walker.

Barbara Walker

It was December 4, 1974. I sat in Dr. Jernigan's office at the Iowa Commission for the Blind. I had spent the two previous days observing the Commission's programs for the purpose professionally of broadening my education and getting some direction as a rehabilitation teacher of the blind.

But I had personal reasons for being there also. I had heard much about the Commission and the Federation. I wanted to know if the Commission really was all that it was cracked up to be and wanted to know why Federationists from Iowa kept coming to Nebraska to deal with legislative and other matters which I presumed were none of their business. I had also wondered why Nebraska Federationists seemed to welcome what I saw as interference from these Iowans.

I went to Dr. Jernigan's office that day with a list of questions: "Why are Federation convention rates so low?"; "What is meant by ACB-type groups?"; "Why does dual membership seem to be all right with the ACB but not with the NFB?"; "Don't Federationists use sighted people for what they need and then sometimes claim to have done the things themselves?"; "Why just the blind? What about other handicaps?"

After dealing straightforwardly with these issues, we came to the real crux of the matter. I acknowledged that the Federation seemed to be working well in Iowa. People were really pulling together to make a positive difference for the blind. But it was different in Nebraska. Folks got together in the chapter in Lincoln (my home town), I said, and had cake and coffee, socialized some, maybe even agreed to work on something; but then went home and, likely as not, complained about what had been decided and backbit one another about it.

Dr. Jernigan listened patiently to what I now know, having been around awhile, may have been the millionth time he may have heard such things. Then he calmly asked me, without judgment or malice, "And what are you doing about it?"

I sat for a moment reflecting on what I had just done. I had just told the national president of an organization to which I didn't belong what was wrong with a local component of that organization, where I could be (but hadn't been) doing something about it. Having already discovered during that visit that I had many misconceptions about the Federation and its workings, I decided that the very least I could do was to go back to my job and the Lincoln chapter of the Federation and look upon both with the love and respect I had been shown, and with the new understanding of the Federation's approach to issues which I was gaining.

I left that meeting personally exhilarated by the growing conviction that I had found the key to improving my life and the lives of other blind people. I was also keenly aware that what I was about to do was not going to be easy. It was not without some flak that I joined the Federation in January of 1975. Many of my friends and associates thought I was grasping for pie in the sky and abandoning loyalties. There were snubs, confrontations, and some hard feelings. But the issues have become clearer to me, and I discovered there was much I could do.

Within a month after I joined, I was elected president of the Lincoln chapter. I found myself dealing immediately with controversy over a pamphlet put out by our National Office. I once again received patient and respectful guidance from President Jernigan. In May of that year I watched our national representative, Mrs. tenBroek, lovingly turn a frustrated crowd into a working body during one of our state convention sessions. And in July of that year I experienced the magic of my first national convention. That was where I became inextricably a part of the Federation family. It was there I committed myself to involvement in NAC demonstrations; improvements in Nebraska's school, agency, and library for the blind, etc.; and other issues facing us as blind people no matter how controversial things might become, because I believe in the rightness of doing so.

But as I have worked over the years in various capacities in this organization, I have remained convinced that it is not what we do that makes us so strong, important as that is. Our real strength lies in our love, respect, and commitment to one another.

As many of you know, my husband Jim, himself a staunch Federationist, died suddenly of a heart attack a year ago June 19. This past year I have tried to fulfill the pledge I made to you at our convention in Denver to continue the cause to which he dedicated his life. As some of you know, grieving is itself very hard work, and there have been times when it has threatened to consume me. But the presence and strength of God's, Jim's, and your love have not allowed that to happen.

Time does not permit me to elaborate on the specifics of what President Maurer, Dr. Jernigan, and others of you too numerous to mention have done for me. Perhaps the lyrics of a song I gave Jim on our eleventh and final wedding anniversary can best express the kind of love which I believe is the foundation of our Federation. The song is from a Glenn Yarbrough tape Jim purchased at one of our Community Outreach concerts. With a couple of minor modifications, it says:

Something very special,

Stronger than the granite in the hills, We are a family;

Willows in the windstorm.

Bending, always standing, is our love.

Something very precious,

Woven with fragile threads of silk,

We are the fabric

Filled with brilliant colors.

Delicate and shining is our love.

We haven't just been lucky.

You and I have earned this love we share.

Sometimes it's magic!

Comfortable and gentle,

Strong, and yet so tender, is our love.

And after all the trees have fallen,

And stars no longer shine,

All we share together

Will outlast even time.

And forever I will love you.

That's the kind of love Jim and I shared, and it's the kind of love that undergirds this Federation. When I joined, I did it because I felt the need to deal with certain issues concerning the blind, and the Federation offered both the vehicle and the philosophy through which positive change could be made, and dignity and respect maintained. I continue to dedicate much of my time and energy to the Federation because of the real lives of the real people which those issues affect. It is, I believe, a worthwhile struggle.

In closing, I would like to ask each of you, particularly when times are tough and you're tempted to quit working or to complain about other Federationists, to listen, as I do, for that quiet yet compelling voice asking: "And what are you doing about it?" And to try to find answers which will preserve our foundation of love and respect.

Dr. Jernigan: The 1980s we now come to. As often happens with the junior members of families, you get the last of the shortest. We're going to cut each of you to about three to four minutes. It'll be closer to three. It is appropriate, by the way, that we have for the 1980s a student and a parent. We're going to begin with the president of the Student Division. He is a worthy part of the membership and leadership team of this organization. He's Michael Baillif. Michael started out in an uncomplicated way being a Californian, and I'm not sure where Michael says he's from now. Anyway, here is the president of the Student Division. Michael, demonstrate to me that you've got discipline as a student. You've got between three and four minutes, closer to three. Here's Michael Baillif.

Michael Baillif

Thank you Dr. Jernigan. It was 1984. I was seventeen years old. The NFB was forty-four years old. I was a very young and inexperienced scholarship winner. Very early one morning, I recall standing outside a Phoenix, Arizona, Hyatt Regency thinking, wondering who these people were. What was this organization all about? Everyone was wearing suits and making speeches. Particularly puzzling to me was this "Glory, Glory Federation" stuff everyone was always singing about. Well, then an event happened which seemed small but made a great impact upon me. Blind people began to walk out of the hotel. One by one, hundreds and hundreds of blind people began to issue forth from that hotel. Some were going to breakfast; some were going to the convention session early. All were traveling independently, laughing, talking about the convention and the day's events. I had just an inkling of the kind of incredible people's movement the NFB really was. Later that same morning I sat in the convention sessions and listened to the agenda items. I was struck by an amazing thought that had never occurred to me. There really was discrimination out there. As a blind person, I was a member of a minority group. And the National Federation of the Blind was the best, probably the only, way in which to address discrimination and move toward first-class citizenship.

I learned something else a couple of days later. One morning Sharon Gold, Sheryl Pickering, and I were walking to a session. I happened to be using a very short cane at the time and not doing it very well. So I bumped my head on a tree, cut my forehead open, and started bleeding all over the place. It was quite an event. But there was no hysteria. I didn't even get much sympathy. Sharon and Sheryl simply helped me find a Band-Aid for my forehead and suggested that in the future I might want to try using an NFB cane. We walked into the convention session just in time for the call to order.

These three perceptions of my first convention—that the NFB is a people's movement, that this organization is the only way in which we can move toward first-class citizenship, and that we are a community of people who truly teach and really care about one another—have been subsequently reinforced and re-emphasized over the years. To me the Federation decade of the eighties has symbolized an ever growing power and prestige and an ever increasing ability and commitment decisively to address the issues that face us as blind people—not only in the coming decade, but in the next century. I can't wait to attend our seventy-fifth and our one-hundredth conventions—not just to see the triumphs which we will achieve, and not just to see the challenges which will face us over the years, but also to perceive the glory that we contemplate when we sing our song:

"Glory, Glory Federation."

Dr. Jernigan: Well, Michael, you show a proper discipline and some command of the language. So thank you very much. I see why you got elected.

Finally, we come to a person who sometimes is known because of her son, Dan Ryles, and sometimes Dan is known because of her. You know, it's a two-way street. A parent, a teacher, somebody who is as much a part of this Federation as if she herself were blind. And this is Ruby Ryles. Ruby.

Ruby Ryles

The eighties saw the organization of the Parents of Blind Children Division (POBC). We're the parents of the blind who will stand on this platform and lead the centennial celebration of the National Federation of the Blind. Our children will be the first generation to grow up under the strength, the power, and the guidance of an NFB family. They are learning early in life the power of the organized blind, the necessity of adult role models, and the value of having parents taught well by the adult blind in advocacy, attitude, and skill training. From Carbondale, Illinois, to Carthage, Texas, to Spokane, Washington, to Catonsville, Maryland, POBC parents are making noise in their local school districts; and the reverberations have been heard in state legislatures across the United States. Watch for our influence in Washington, D.C. in the nineties because POBC parents are fast learners. And my fellow Federationists, we've been taught advocacy by the best.

The eighties saw the phenomenal growth of state chapters of POBC. Our annual business meeting on Monday saw twenty-five states represented this year with other states organized but not in attendance. Among other activities, these chapters have produced exciting parent-training seminars, giving the benefit of their experience of the National Federation of the Blind's knowledge and training in advocacy to parents. As a parent and a teacher, I've been privileged to speak to POBC seminars around the country, and I'm always overwhelmed by the hunger of parents for our message. Parents of blind children around the United States are outraged with educational systems that will not provide our children with basic academic and travel skills. They are exasperated with professional jargon, reams of paperwork, negative, condescending attitudes regarding our children, and endless meaningless, intrusive testing. We are incensed by professionals in the field who do not understand that a young partially blind child needs a cane early in life. We are weary of listening to the insipid excuses for not teaching our children to read in Braille. Currently a child who is blind or partially blind in all probability will be functionally illiterate at high school graduation, due to the lack of specialized skill training—specifically, Braille. Enough, we say. Our children grow up so quickly. We cannot wait for professionals, agencies, and school districts to get their acts together. We want that appropriate education guaranteed to our children by Public Law 94-142, and our children need it now! Our state president, Ben Prows, echoed other Washington Federationists at our POBC parent training seminar when he stated, "Professionals, if you want to listen to us and work with us, we want to work with you. If not, get out of our way."

The National Federation of the Blind's Parents Division was born in the eighties, and it is a force to be reckoned with in the nineties. We're changing what it means to grow up blind. National Federation of the Blind's Parents of Blind Children Division, POBC, remember our name. You'll hear from us in the nineties. Thank you.

Dr. Jernigan: Very shortly now, we'll bring this segment of the program to a conclusion. I remind you that the time capsule is being prepared for the hundredth anniversary. I also remind you that each chapter and each state affiliate is invited to send an item to the National Office for inclusion in the time capsule. You can send it either sealed or not, and mark it for the 2040 convention.

You have heard this morning the heritage, the fifty-year review of the Federation's growth, presented worthily.

As we noted at the beginning of the article, this panel presentation took place on Wednesday morning, July 4, Independence Day. It seemed fitting somehow that the story of the evolving emancipation of the blind should have been recalled on such a day. Ours is a history in which we can all take pride.

In 1940 freedom was a distant dream that only the boldest of the blind dared to strive for. Today, because of the National Federation of the Blind, it is a reality within the grasp of many. We have grown in strength as we have struggled to win that freedom, and we have deepened our commitment to continue the battle until every blind person with the courage to stand and fight for the right will also be free. Having built our history with integrity, let us go forward to build our future with hope.

[PHOTO: Portrait of David Andrews. CAPTION: David Andrews, Director of NEWSLINE for the Blind.]

NEWSLINE, AN EXCITING DEVELOPMENT

From the Editor: Sometimes we are asked why the National Federation of the Blind has such vitality and such dedicated support. One answer can be found in the following article. Wherever the Federation goes, the quality of life for the blind improves. Federation strength is equivalent to enthusiasm and positive action.

As Monitor readers know, Fred Schroeder (the Director of the New Mexico Commission for the Blind) is a member of the Board of Directors of the National Federation of the Blind. Arthur Schreiber and David Andrews are Federation members and leaders. A news release issued August 10, 1990, tells of exciting developments in the state of New Mexico and once again answers the question why the National Federation of the Blind. Here is the text of the release:

Daily Newspaper Now Available To Blind New Mexicans

For the first time, blind New Mexicans are able to read a daily newspaper, whenever and however they want, thanks to a new service being provided by the New Mexico Commission for the Blind. The new service, which is called NEWSLINE for the Blind, went on-line officially on Wednesday, August 1, 1990

NEWSLINE users access the service via a standard touchtone telephone. By using the buttons on the phone, they are then able to choose the section of the paper they wish to read and decide to read, skim, or skip individual stories. Fred Schroeder, Executive Director of the Commission for the Blind said, "Blind people cannot truly be fully integrated into their communities until they have equal access to information. NEWSLINE for the Blind is an important step in providing blind New Mexicans with that equal access."

The NEWSLINE for the Blind service enables its users to read virtually the entire newspaper seven days a week. The paper being offered is the Albuquerque Journal. There are approximately 15 hours of reading each day, Monday through Saturday and 25 hours on Sundays. The only things not read at this time are some of the legal notices and the classified ads. NEWSLINE Director David Andrews said, "We plan on reading at least some of the help wanted ads from the Sunday paper later this year."

All NEWSLINE users must sign up and receive an authorization number from the Commission, to avoid copyright liability problems. Once an authorized user has signed onto the system correctly, he/she is presented with a menu of categories to choose from. Choices are made with a two-digit code. The categories include Local News, State News, National News, World News, Sports, TV Listings, Movies, Area Events, Entertainment News, Weather, Horoscopes, Editorials, Columns, Obituaries, Grocery Ads, Department Store Ads, Drug and Sundry Ads, Sunday Magazine, Features, the Travel Section and Comics.

Once a listener has chosen a category he/she is automatically presented with the first story in that section. He/she can listen to it, skip to the next story, start that story over again, or jump ahead or back in ten second increments. He/she can also immediately exit that category to choose another. All the reading is done by a group of over 75 specially trained volunteers.

NEWSLINE for the Blind works by turning the volunteers' voices into numbers, or digitizing them for storage on a computer hard disk. The computer system is hooked up to a number of phone lines and when listeners call, the volunteers' voices are turned back into audio and fed down the proper phone line. Thus, the caller hears the actual voice of the volunteer. The system presently has eight incoming phone lines but can support up to 24 lines.

The idea of "telephone reading for the blind" originated with Jim Doherty, a radio newsman from Flint, Michigan. His "Talking Newspaper" went on-line in February of 1987. Doherty came up with the idea and worked with computer programmers to bring the concept to fruition. He was supported and aided in large part by Allen Harris and the other members of the National Federation of the Blind of Michigan. Doherty has said, "It is the belief and support of the National Federation of the Blind of Michigan that kept me going at times." NEWSLINE for the Blind is the third telephone reading service to go on-line. The second is in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area of Minnesota and is sponsored by their State Services for the Blind.

The service in New Mexico was made possible in large part thanks to the efforts of Arthur Schreiber who is General Manager of KKOB Radio in Albuquerque and Chairman of the Commission for the Blind's Board. Schreiber, who is blind himself, was first introduced to the talking newspaper concept when he attended a convention of the National Federation of the Blind of Michigan with Fred Schroeder. He met and talked to Jim Doherty while there. Schreiber then came home and spearheaded the lobbying efforts in the New Mexico state legislature that led to the appropriation to fund NEWSLINE for the Blind. Schreiber said "I have spent the majority of my career working in the area of radio news, so I understand the importance of blind persons' having access to current-in-depth news sources.

NEWSLINE was dedicated in public ceremonies on Wednesday, August 1, 1990. The ceremonies were emceed by Arthur Schreiber and speakers included New Mexico Governor Garrey Carruthers as well as gubernatorial candidates Frank Bond and Bruce King. The ceremonies were followed by a reception which was sponsored by the Albuquerque Journal.

While NEWSLINE is free to New Mexico residents, there will be a charge for out-of-state subscribers. There are a small number of these subscriptions available at a cost of $8.50 per month, which is the same as a regular subscription to the newspaper. The caller of course would also have to pick up the cost of any long distance telephone charges he/she would incur. For subscription information, contact: NEWSLINE for the Blind, New Mexico Commission for the Blind; 2200 Yale Boulevard, S.E.;

Albuquerque, New Mexico 87106 or call (505) 841-8862.

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If you or a friend would like to remember the National Federation of the Blind in your will, you can do so by employing the following language:

"I give, devise, and bequeath unto National Federation of the Blind, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21230, a District of Columbia nonprofit corporation, the sum of $_____" (or "_____ percent of my net estate" or "The following stocks and bonds: _____") to be used for its worthy purposes on behalf of blind persons."

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[PHOTO: Portrait of Kenneth Jernigan. CAPTION: Kenneth Jernigan, Director of the Iowa Commission for the Blind from 1958-1978.]

MORE TROUBLE FOR THE IOWA DEPARTMENT FOR THE BLIND

by Kenneth Jernigan

The Iowa Department for the Blind, which was formerly known as the Iowa Commission for the Blind, has had a series of ongoing problems during recent years. Once the envy of the nation and a recognized political power in the state, the Iowa Department for the Blind now finds itself fighting for its very existence. Earlier this year (see Braille Monitor for January and February, 1990) an official of the Department was convicted of stealing state and federal funds.

Now a new commotion has occurred and been publicized by the media. Gregory Phelps, one of the Department's rehabilitation counselors, has been arrested for soliciting sex while using a state car. Here is how the July 26, 1990, Des Moines Register reported the matter:

Prostitution Bust Nets State Employee

An employee of the Iowa Department for the Blind was arrested last week in a Des Moines prostitution crackdown, and the state car he was driving was towed away, police say.

Gregory Phelps, 46, of Cedar Rapids, a vocational rehabilitation counselor with the Department for the Blind, was accused of soliciting a woman for sex. Police arrested Phelps near Eighth Street and Forest Avenue about 8:20 p.m. July 19.

The station wagon was towed to an impound lot, where it was later retrieved by Phelps.

A trial date on the misdemeanor charge was set for August 20.

The Braille Monitor takes no satisfaction in reporting this incident, and personally I discuss it with heavy heart. Mr. Phelps is generally recognized as being the best counselor that the Iowa Department for the Blind has on its staff, and he seems to be widely respected by the blind of the state. Whether this unfortunate occurrence will do such damage to his reputation that he can no longer function effectively as a counselor is yet to be seen, but it will necessarily reflect adversely on the Department.

I know Phelps well, having employed him during the 1970s when I was Director of the Iowa Commission for the Blind. He was conscientious; he believed in the capabilities of the blind; he cared about his clients; and he worked with dedication—and from what I can hear, these traits have not changed.

Yet, he finds himself in a situation where he is arrested for soliciting sex while driving a state car, and one has to wonder why. As you might imagine, I have asked myself whether this could have happened during the happier days of the Iowa Commission for the Blind—and the answer, of course, is that I can't be sure. It didn't happen, and in some ways that is the bottom line. If I had to try to find an explanation for the fact that such an event has occurred now and probably would not have occurred then, I think it would revolve around the commitment we felt to what we were doing, our loyalty to each other, and our pride in the agency. We thought we counted for something, that the blind counted for something. We thought it mattered what we did—and we were right. I do not believe that this spirit still exists (or, for that matter, could still exist) at the Iowa Department for the Blind, and all of us are poorer for it—the blind of Iowa, the general public of Iowa, and the blind of the nation. No, there is no satisfaction in discussing this unfortunate occurrence, but we have a responsibility to report what happens in the field of blindness—and we try to meet our responsibilities whether we like them or not.

[PHOTO: Nell Carney standing at podium microphone. CAPTION: Nell Carney, Commissioner of the United States Rehabilitation Services Administration.]

THE REHABILITATION SERVICES ADMINISTRATION: ITS RELATIONSHIP TO BLINDNESS AND CONSUMERISM

by Nell Carney

On Thursday afternoon, July 5, 1990, Nell Carney, the newly-appointed Commissioner of the United States Rehabilitation Services Administration, addressed the convention of the National Federation of the Blind. Because this was Mrs. Carney's first opportunity to meet as RSA Director with the organized blind of America, this was an historic occasion, and in retrospect it would appear to have been an auspicious one. This is the way it happened from Dr. Jernigan's introduction to the final question and comment:

Dr. Jernigan: Mr. President, it will be observed that the first item on the afternoon agenda is listed as "The Rehabilitation Services Administration: Its Relationship to Blindness and Consumerism." The person to deliver that is Nell Carney, who is the Commissioner of the Rehabilitation Services Administration from Washington, D.C. I introduce Nell Carney, although to many in this organization she requires no introduction. I have known her for a long time. At one time she was a student of mine in high school; that was in Tennessee. At another time she was President of the National Federation of the Blind of Tennessee. That would have been in the late sixties and early seventies. She has been part of the organized blind movement and has had long acquaintance with many of us. I've always had a very productive and pleasant relationship with her, and I'm particularly pleased that she has come today to talk with us. I met with her earlier this year to talk about common problems—problems that were matters of concern to rehabilitation and also to us as blind people. She will take questions afterward. Now, I want to present to you the Commissioner of the Rehabilitation Services Administration, Nell Carney.

Nell Carney: Thank you, Dr. Jernigan. It's a special honor to have you, Sir, my former teacher, my mentor, and my lifetime friend, introduce me to this audience in which for many years I was a participant. President Maurer and ladies and gentlemen of the Federation, I am informed that you have registered twenty-two hundred people and that your attendance is close to three thousand. I further am informed that that's probably the largest gathering of blind people anywhere in the world in recent history. I'd like to congratulate you on that, Sir.

I am especially honored to be here this afternoon on this fiftieth anniversary of the National Federation of the Blind, an organization which certainly made a difference in my life as a blind person and made a difference in the kind of services that I received as a client of vocational rehabilitation and, in any way that we can think about, influenced the paths that my career has taken.

I'm also pleased to be here to bring you greetings from President Bush, who appointed me to this position; from Vice President Quayle; from the Secretary of the U.S. Department of Education, Dr. Lauro Cavazos; from the Assistant Secretary of the Department of Education, Dr. Robert Davila, who is in charge of the Office of Special Education and Rehabilitation Services; and from my own staff at the Rehabilitation Services Administration. Specifically, this afternoon in the audience, I am pleased to tell you that Dr. Harold Viaille, who is the Commissioner in Region VI here in Dallas, is here; and accompanying Dr. Viaille is Loerance D