It isn't often that Dirty Harry gets put in his place. Actor Clint Eastwood reached for the speech synthesizer on 14-year-old Kyle Glozier's wheelchair and learned the hard way that people with disabilities dislike having the devices that assist them touched by strangers, even famous ones.
Kyle slapped Eastwood's hand away--a moment that delighted his parents, Jim and Laura Glozier of Freeport, Greene County.
"I wish we had it on tape. That would be great," said Laura Glozier, who recounted the incident that occurred this spring in Washington, D.C.
Kyle, who has cerebral palsy, is emerging as a future leader of the disability rights movement, senior activists say.
Kyle handcuffs himself to buildings during protests with the national disability group American Disabled for Attendant Programs Today. Until he turns 18, however, he has to scurry to safety when the police move in to make arrests.
"You'll have your day," ADAPT leader Mike Auberger tells Kyle, noting the teen is "ready to go to the wall" in the disability community's struggle for civil rights.
Already, Kyle is conversant on the key issues of the disability rights movement, and he has a veteran activist's impatience with the pace of change.
"He has something I never had at his age," said John Lorence Jr., a civil rights specialist with Tri-County Patriots for Independent Living, an ADAPT chapter in Washington. "He doesn't want to please everybody around him. I was always looking to make people happy, to be who they thought I should be. It took me a long time to grow out of that."
Kyle, a freshman at West Greene High School, abruptly left a meeting with U.S. Sen. Rick Santorum.
"Because I didn't want to spend my Saturday talking baloney," said Kyle, upset that Santorum wouldn't co-sponsor a bill to provide in-home care to people with disabilities. Santorum spokesman Melissa Sabatine said the senator supports the concept of providing additional care options to people with disabilities. However, she said, he isn't convinced the Senate Bill adequately addresses quality-assurance issues and other concerns raised by the Congressional Budget Office. In other words, Sabatine said, Santorum supports the bill's intent but not the bill itself.
"As he walked out, he said, 'I love civics,' " his mother recalled.
Raised by parents who demand equality for their son, Kyle has traveled the country to speak at disability conferences, to represent ADAPT at important functions and to take a stand in support of others. The handcuffs dangle from his motorized wheelchair.
"I think one of the things people forget about, at least within the disability community, is that he's a kid," said Auberger, who runs ADAPT from Denver.
For 20 days in August and September, Deanna Lesneski tied herself to the flagpole at Blaine-Buffalo Elementary School to protest McGuffey School District's treatment of her son, Max, who has Down syndrome and other disabilities. Kyle was among the disability activists who showed up at the school to support Lesneski, who was dubbed the "flagpole mom." Lesneski ended the protest after meeting the aide whom officials agreed to hire for Max.
In May, Kyle testified before a congressional panel studying the impact of the 10-year-old Americans with Disabilities Act on businesses. Presenting the businessman's point of view that day was Eastwood, who owns a hotel in California and had been sued by a disabled person who claimed the building was inaccessible.
In the 1983 film "Sudden Impact," Eastwood plays "Dirty Harry" Callahan, who points his Magnum at a robber and says, "Go ahead, make my day." Kyle has a button that says, "Go ahead, Dirty Harry, make my day, just don't tread on the ADA."
During a break in the congressional hearing, Eastwood approached Kyle, told him he had a son with the same name and asked how the speech synthesizer worked, Laura Glozier said.
"Because this is not a toy," Kyle said, explaining why he slapped Eastwood's hand aside.
To conserve time, Kyle is apt to speak in sentence fragments.
Sometimes he mouths words or makes signals interpreted by his mom. It can be tiring to use the synthesizer, a keyboard-like device in which buttons represent letters, words or concepts.
After years of using the machine, called the Liberator, Kyle still pushes the wrong combination of keys from time to time.
"I want to be a telephone," the machine blurted at one point during an interview at Kyle's home.
"Obviously," said Kyle's older brother, Jason, "he wants to be a household appliance."
They laughed, having learned long ago how to turn life's sour moments into lemonade.
Laura Glozier said she remembers thinking how bright the future appeared for healthy newborn Jason and how little hope anyone had for Kyle, born less than two years later. She said doctors advised the couple to "take him home and love him and do the best you can."
"When Kyle was born, we just saw there was this double standard," Laura Glozier recalled.
By chance, Jim Glozier saw television footage of an ADAPT protest in 1993 and gained a better understanding of how disability activists were fighting for for civil rights.
They joined the organization, and now the family goes on ADAPT "actions," the protests held around the country, to draw attention to the needs of the disability community. Jim Glozier is a full-time activist, working as assistant director of Tri-County Patriots.
Formed in the 1970s to get wheelchair lifts on buses, ADAPT's name initially stood for "American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation." After the ADA required wheelchair lifts put on buses, the group turned its attention to the shortage of in-home care and amended its name.
"We need to get S1935. We need to get S1935. We need to get S1935 passed," Kyle said with the speech synthesizer.
Senate Bill 1935 is the Medicaid Community Attendant Services and Supports Act that would make in-home care an entitlement for people with disabilities. The amount of care would be based not on the cost, but on the severity of the person's disability.
Right now, the federal government offers no attendant care program. States offer in-home care to segments of the disability community, setting eligibility requirements and limiting care for budgetary reasons.
Activists contend disabled people nationwide are "incarcerated" in nursing homes because they can't get in-home care.
"I don't like nursing homes ... They are big buildings that look like jails," Kyle said.
He drove the message home during a 71/2-minute speech at the Democratic National Convention in August.
"Free our people," Kyle said, repeating ADAPT's battle cry.
During an ADAPT protest in Washington, D.C., in the spring, Vice President Al Gore promised ADAPT floor time at the convention, activists said. ADAPT selected Kyle, in part because of the Democratic Party's focus on youth, Auberger said.
Auberger, who watched the speech on television, said noise in the convention hall diminished when Kyle maneuvered himself to the podium. The speech had been programmed into the synthesizer, and Kyle controlled the delivery with the keyboard.
Auberger said aides to four members of Congress later called seeking information about the bill, a sign, in his view, that Kyle's remarks were well received.
The Gloziers wouldn't think of letting Kyle spend his school day in a special education classroom. He spends virtually the entire day with able-bodied kids, leaving class a few minutes early so he doesn't have to travel through crowded halls. Kyle's younger brother, Nigel, 8, said he doesn't think of Kyle as disabled, and the family wishes everyone felt the same way.
Kyle was one of about 250 people who protested near the White House in October 1998 to demand stricter enforcement of the national special education law, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act.
"A segregated classroom does more baby-sitting than teaching," Kyle told the Associated Press.
ADAPT has up-and-coming leaders in their 20s, but it's unusual for somebody as young as Kyle to demonstrate leadership qualities, Auberger said.
He "has growing up to do and a whole lot of learning and hard knocks to take yet before he gets to be an adult." Auberger said, noting adolescence, when looks mean almost everything, will test Kyle's mettle in a way no protest can.
The disability rights movement "loses" many children, Lorence said, because the kids and their parents learn to accept what's given them and not ask for more.
"They don't know they're allowed to take hold of their lives," Lorence said.
Because he understands independence, Kyle is well suited to take the movement into its third generation, Lorence said.
Next month, Kyle is scheduled to speak at disability conferences in Charleston, W.Va., and Jackson, Miss. He talks about going to law school, practicing disability law and entering politics. If his ultimate dream comes true, it would make the disability community's day.
"I want to be the president of the United States," Kyle said.