James Weisman: Making a Career Out of a Passion


James Weisman
James Weisman didn’t want to fight about toilets. But in 1992 the Americans with Disabilities Act had just been passed, and New York City Mayor David Dinkins was insisting that the city install more than 100 outdoor restrooms across the city. The units were slick — self-cleaning after every use, with soap and warm water, and designed by a handsome Frenchman, Jean-Claude Decaux, who bequeathed them his handsome name. There was one problem with the JCDecaux toilets: they were totally inaccessible.

Weisman, then the legal counsel for the Eastern Paralyzed Veterans Association, informed the mayor’s office that installing the inaccessible toilets would violate the ADA and he would seek an injunction to stop them. The mayor’s office offered a compromise: for every JCDecaux toilet the city installed, they would build an accessible unit next to it, cleaned by an attendant and accessed by a special key card that the city, in its infinite generosity, would give out to deserving wheelchair users. Disability advocates balked at the separate but unequal solution — why couldn’t all the toilets be accessible and used whether or not you had a key card?

James Weisman as a young attorney
James Weisman as a young attorney

New York media latched onto the fight, casting the toilets’ inaccessibility as a virtue. Surely vagrants would find them too cramped for sleeping, but toilets big enough for a wheelchair to fit in? Why not just give prostitutes and junkies free hotel rooms? One Manhattan resident — incensed by a New York magazine article titled “Toilet Wars,” which painted Weisman and disability-rights campaigners as bladder-busting radicals — wrote Weisman a letter that finished with a line for the ages: “I hope you feel smug standing on the moral high ground while the rest of us stand in a puddle of urine.”

Weisman looked up the guy who sent it and called him. “Hi, this is Jim Weisman from Eastern Paralyzed Veterans Association, and I wanted to let you know that some nut is writing letters using your name.” After a moment of dead silence, Weisman continued. “Look, I’m just kidding about the nut thing, but I don’t think you understand what’s going on.”

Thirty years later — months after Weisman stepped down as the CEO of United Spinal Association, which EPVA changed its name to in 2004 — he still laughs at the ridiculousness of the whole episode. But he has no regrets about instigating the toilet wars. “I just couldn’t let the city do it,” he says. For him, disability rights have always been simple: disabled people should have the same rights and access as everyone else. When those in power aren’t living up to their end of the bargain, you fight — even if it’s about toilets.

A Whole New World

Weisman doesn’t have a disability, and if it wasn’t for the faulty memory of a Long Island grocery store manager, it’s unlikely he would have spent the past 43 years of his life fighting for disability rights.

When Weisman was 16, he showed up for the first shift of his summer job at a local store, but the manager had already given the job away to someone else. Weisman’s father had given him a “work or summer school” ultimatum, so he had to find something else to do. “I was so hot for this girl who was volunteering at a summer camp for disabled kids,” he says. “So I bike over there just for this girl, and it was just a whole new world.”

Weisman’s ability to forge relationships with elected officials, such as Ted Kennedy, greatly benefited the disability community.
Weisman’s ability to forge relationships with elected officials, such as Ted Kennedy, greatly benefited the disability community.

He stayed three years at that camp, the Viscardi Center, because he made friends with a bunch of the campers and didn’t want to leave. “It was just fun,” he says. One of those friends was Paul Hearne, a counselor with osteogenesis imperfecta who used a gurney because his legs were in casts. “He was incredibly garrulous and funny. And girls loved him, which fascinated me as a teenager,” says Weisman.

He and Hearne became good friends, hanging out together throughout high school and college, but Weisman says back then he never really thought about disability rights. He still remembers the first time he had a real conversation on the subject. Hearne and Weisman had graduated from law school and they happened to meet on the streets of Manhattan shortly after the first set of Section 504 regulations had been signed into law in 1977. Weisman congratulated Hearne, “which was probably me pandering or patronizing,” he says in hindsight.

“It’s a piece of paper,” Hearne replied. “Paper doesn’t change your life.”

They went to a bar down the street to talk. Hearne — who had to be carried up flights of stairs by his coworkers to get into his office at the federally-funded Legal Services Corporation— proceeded to educate Weisman on the realities of living as a disabled person in America.

A few months later, amidst a city hiring freeze, Weisman lost his promised job as an assistant district attorney and almost wound up working for a prison in California. Hearne convinced him to try to open an accessible legal services office in the city instead. At the time, 19 of New York City’s 21 legal service centers, meant to serve low-income Americans who couldn’t afford their own lawyers, were inaccessible. They needed funding for the new office, and Hearne met a guy who worked for Sen. Jacob Javits and got Weisman and Hearne an appointment.

As they drove to Javits’ office, Hearne said to Weisman: “Watch this, the negative presumption at work.”

“What’s the negative presumption?” Weisman asked.

“We’ll get to Javits’ office and he’ll talk to you because I’m in a wheelchair and he’ll think I’m a moron. Then I’ll speak up, and I’ll only be as articulate as you are, but he’ll feel like an idiot because he thought I was a moron, and he’ll give us whatever we ask for.”

Sure enough, the scene played out like it was scripted. They left the office with Javits supporting funding for their legal services center.

Shortly after they opened the new office, Frieda Zames, who’d attended Camp Jened of Crip Camp fame, convinced Weisman to attend an MTA hearing at which a number of advocates from Disabled in Action would be testifying. “When they get up to testify … the board of the MTA just gets up and walks away, as if they don’t exist. They didn’t even have the pretext of civility and manners. They were incredibly rude, talking to each other, getting coffee with their backs to the audience. One or two stayed at the table, but only so they could call the next speaker,” Weisman says, his voice rising as he recounts the story. “I cannot tell you what this did to me. It got under my skin and stayed there a very long time. That kind of disregard for humans is unbelievable to me. I could not stand it.”

A Career Advocating for Equality

When you talk with Weisman, and those who work with him, it’s clear that his passion for disability rights is still as strong as ever. That passion has been built on his friendships within the community. Weisman met Terry Moakley, who worked in advocacy at EPVA, shortly after he opened up the legal services office with Hearne.

A short time later, Weisman went to work with the governor’s office on disability. Moakley attended a meeting where Weisman’s boss chewed him out for siding with the disability community instead of the state of New York. After the scene, he followed Weisman to the men’s room to gauge his interest in coming to work for EPVA. The next day, Jim Peters, the organization’s executive director, called and offered him a job.

James Weisman, Terry Moakley and Denise McQuade tirelessly advocated for accessible transportation.
James Weisman, Terry Moakley and Denise McQuade tirelessly advocated for accessible transportation.

He’s now been with the organization for 41 years, during which time he has seen it all. Some major wins, like the ADA, happened with head-spinning speed. Others, like the push to make New York City taxis accessible, took decades, only to have a world changed by ride sharing knock progress back at the eleventh hour.

After his hiring, he worked with Moakley on transportation issues. The two became close friends and would remain so until Moakley’s death in 2014. Abby Ross, United Spinal’s current COO, has worked closely with Weisman since he hired her in 2011. She thinks these relationships were one of the keys to Weisman’s impact over the years. “He’s considered part of the community in really intimate ways,” she says. “He wasn’t striving for fame or anything, it was all just part of him being himself with people he enjoyed and cared about, fighting for a cause he believes in.”

Weisman’s first big lawsuit came in 1979, when he sued the MTA over lack of wheelchair access across the city’s public transportation system. Moakley and Peters were both plaintiffs in the lawsuit. It took six years, but in 1985 the city settled, agreeing to some key access provisions: installing lifts on all city buses, making key subway and commuter rail stations accessible and mandating that all new stations would be accessible.

“He was really making a pathway for accessibility for people with disabilities before the ADA was ever really thought of,” says Kleo King, who served under Weisman as the assistant general counsel for EPVA, ultimately serving the organization for 28 years before taking a job at the NYC Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities.

Weisman’s negotiations with the city would form the basis for the transportation provisions for the Americans with Disabilities Act. “They always credit Sen. Tom Harkin for the ADA, which is true, but those transportation regulations are Jim’s brainchild. They came from him sitting down in locked rooms, negotiating with the governor of New York for the settlement of the MTA lawsuit,” says King.

As the ADA was being written, Weisman worked directly with lawmakers on the details of the law, as well as coordinating with the national disability organizers working to pass the law. “He was in D.C. a lot, he was at the table,” says Helena Berger, who worked at the EPVA’s advocacy division at the time and later went on to serve as the president of the American Association of People with Disabilities (see AAPD, right). “He was a very key player in those transportation provisions, and ultimately the passage of the ADA.”

AAPD

The American Association of People with Disabilities is a national, cross-disability civil rights organization that Paul Hearne helped found in 1995 to increase the political and economic power of people with disabilities. Weisman was on the board from its inception until 2020, including a term as board chair.

“Throughout my entire history with AAPD, the one person I knew I could count on was Jim. If I needed some advice, some help, no matter what it was, he was always there,” says Helena Berger, who served as president and CEO of AAPD. “That is also part of his legacy — helping to build and grow AAPD.”

In those pre- and immediate post-ADA years, fights over everything from employment discrimination, to stadium access, to curb cuts, often got contentious quickly. Americans often still saw disability as something to be cured rather than accommodated; the idea that people with disabilities should have the same civil rights as other minority groups was a bridge too far for some. Weisman remembers meeting with a city attorney, a Black man, who presented the city’s offer for separate, accessible toilets. “I asked, ‘What if they had one like that just for Black people?’ He got up, walked out of his office, left me there by myself and never came back.”

United Spinal staff members appreciate Weisman — and his sense of humor — so much they had a bobblehead made in his likeness.
United Spinal staff members appreciate Weisman — and his sense of humor — so much they had a bobblehead made in his likeness.

Most of the time Weisman has a knack for making his point without pissing people off. He’s boisterous, with a classic New York accent and a funny story for any situation — did he ever tell you about the time that Adam Sandler stole a joke from him? — which makes it feel like he’s been a lifelong friend, even if he only met you five minutes ago and just sued you. “He cares about what he does, and he cares about people, and I think that just comes through,” says Berger.

Broadening Reach

After the passage of the ADA, Weisman’s role quickly expanded beyond lawsuits. Helena Berger says a big part of her post-ADA work at the advocacy division of the EPVA was to educate all the people who would be impacted by the law, from people with disabilities, to business owners, to state and local governments. Because of his personality, speaking skills and role in crafting the ADA, Weisman often spoke at educational conferences, helping people to understand the new law and the lives it affected. “Jim was always a part of that,” Berger says.

Of course, access lawsuits continued, but Weisman says they also found that now businesses were coming to EPVA, asking for help either before they got sued or after they’d been flagged for an access violation. In 2005, Weisman helped set up Accessibility Services, an in-house consulting firm that provides accessible design expertise and has steadily grown to the point that last year they provided some 10,000 hours of service to 150 clients, from large hospital and university systems serving thousands of daily visitors, to local stores and restaurants. Often the mission has been not only to help with the details of code requirements but to help people understand why those codes exist in the first place.

“I’ve had people tell me, ‘I’ve gone out of my store and carried people in,’ and they think that absolves them of responsibility for all the people who don’t want to be or wouldn’t ask to be carried, and all the people who don’t come to your business and who’s quality of life is lessened by the inaccessibility,” says Weisman.  “When people are done with us, not only have they removed barriers, they also understand the disability community better.”

Ross says that with everything Weisman does, he’s able to understand the nuts and bolts of an issue and how they affect one another, as well as how the individual pieces relate to the overall goal of increasing access and community integration for people with SCI/D. “It’s unbelievably valuable,” she says. “He just brings people along with understanding how things will be impacted … and how important it is, and they don’t even have to make the calculation for themselves. He sells them on it.”

In 2019 the New York Yankees joined the Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities to celebrate Weisman’s 40th year at United Spinal Association.
In 2019 the New York Yankees joined the Mayor’s Office for People with Disabilities to celebrate Weisman’s 40th year at United Spinal Association. Photo courtesy of New York Yankees.

Taking the Reins

Weisman’s talent for seeing both the trees and the forest proved equally valuable when he was tapped to serve as CEO of United Spinal Association in 2015. Weisman had been handling legal counsel duties, along with a few other managerial roles, during a time of transition for the organization.

In 2011, United Spinal merged with the National Spinal Cord Injury Association and brought its extensive, countrywide chapter network into the fold. With the merger, United Spinal went from primarily serving veterans in the Northeast to becoming the largest SCI/D membership organization in the country. As you might expect, there were growing pains.

David Estrada, a wheelchair user who served as president of the Greater Boston Chapter of NSCIA, says that when the merger happened, there was “a bit of trepidation” about what life would be like under new leadership. “Jim was always able to explain things well and put people at ease … he’s been a great leader.”

Under Weisman, United Spinal managed to get its finances in order while growing into its broader role — expanding its chapter network and lobbying presence on Capitol Hill and in state capitols across the country and tending to the daily needs of thousands of members every year through its Resource Center. He also prioritized building relationships with Fortune 500 companies to ensure they understand the value and needs of people with SCI/D.

Weisman focused on the need to keep the organization running smoothly because he understood that every employee depended on it for their and their family’s livelihoods. “The temptation as CEO is to not think big — it’s to balance the books, keep all the ducks in a row because you feel like that’s your responsibility,” he says. “At the same time, you have to be making autonomous vehicles accessible. You can’t lose sight of the mission.”

Onward

As Weisman prepared to hand over the CEO reins, he wanted no part of the search for his successor, but there was one criterion he felt was a must: Whoever was to lead United Spinal into the future needed to be a wheelchair user. Over the years, Weisman and United Spinal have been drivers of concrete change to the built environment, but access has always been a means to an end. The end is a world where wheelchair users see themselves reflected in society and feel like their dreams — whatever they may be — are attainable. The more people with disabilities are visible and successful at the highest levels, whether it’s in industry, sport, entertainment, advocacy or anywhere else, “the more it breeds the success of other people with disabilities,” he says.

Weisman marches with the United Spinal crew at a New York City Disability Pride march.
Weisman marches with the United Spinal crew at a New York City Disability Pride march.

He got his wish. United Spinal’s new CEO, Vincenzo Piscopo, is a wheelchair user who was working at Coca-Cola at the time of his injury. Rather than being given a retirement package and a few well wishes on the way out the door, Piscopo was encouraged to stay on with the company, to continue working, providing for his family and contributing to his community. Piscopo says that his story, along with all those of wheelchair users who are able to live successful, fulfilling lives, are a testament “to the impact Jim has had, both on access and transportation across the country, but also to his unwavering passion and dedication to disability rights.”

It’s easy to get caught up in the daily battles to make disability a more normal, accepted part of society, but perhaps the most important lesson from Weisman’s career is that while the details are important, you can’t forget about the big picture. Continue to push disability rights forward and the path may not get any easier — but keep at it long enough and you’ll be able to look back and see how far we’ve come.


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Christine Griffin
Christine Griffin
3 years ago

Sharing time with Jim was always educational and fun, I am grateful that I had the chance to meet him work with him and laugh with him over the past 25 years

Marvin L Wasserman
Marvin L Wasserman
3 years ago

I first saw Jim and Paul Hearne as a panel at a meeting of the NYC Chapter of the National Paraplegia Association around 1979 or 1980. Shortly thereafter, I was denied appointment as a Parole Officer in New York City because I had a history of seizures. My friends in the community directed me to contact Jim, who was then working for the Office of the Advocate for the Disabled. Jim notified my agency that they were in violation of Section 504 by denying me appointment. I then worked as a Parole Officer and supervising Parole Officer for the next 22 years, until I retired.

Over the years, I worked with Jim on many transportation issues.. I haven’t seen him in the past ten years, but I consider him a dear friend.

I wish the best for him on his well deserved retirement.