DATE: Tuesday, April 1, 1997                TAG: 9704010031

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Column 

SOURCE: Elizabeth Simpson
                                            LENGTH:   72 lines

CLINTON'S BOUT WITH DISABILITY SHOWS HOW FAR WE HAVEN'T COME

THE REMARK from a presidential aide had the ring of an insult.

``We don't want things looking too FDRish around here,'' the aide said, talking about wheelchair-bound President Clinton.

Correct me if I'm wrong here, but wasn't Franklin Delano Roosevelt one of the presidents we liked?

Clinton would be lucky to have FDR's popularity ratings.

We think we're enlightened about people with disabilities, but the president's bout with a wheelchair proves otherwise. In fact, it shows we are more hobbled than ever in this image-obsessed TV age.

Aides, worried about showing an undignified president, have been scrapping presidential travel plans and photo ops right and left.

What kind of message does that send?

Isn't Clinton the one who says he wants government to look more like America? So why the angst over a president on wheels? Why the worry over appearing unpresidential?

I guess I shouldn't be surprised given the recent controversy over whether the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial - due to be unveiled this spring - should show FDR in a wheelchair. A commission decided against the chair, saying the public best remembered him without it.

Probably because that president tried to hide his disability as well.

But you would think a few decades of progress would make us more tolerant.

Seeing the president experience the world at wheelchair level reminds me of one of the most exhausting assignments of my career.

When I worked for a paper in Waco, Texas, one of my editors sidled up to my desk one day and said, ``What do you think of the idea of spending a day in a wheelchair and writing about the experience?''

Terrific idea! I thought.

For some other reporter!

I looked wildly around the room for a volunteer, but everyone mysteriously disappeared.

Ashamed to say the assignment sounded too hard, I lined up a wheelchair for a day and drew up a list of activities. Picking up applications at city hall. Going to the post office. Shopping at the mall.

No Special Olympics events, just simple, every-day errands.

How hard could it be?

I found out the next day as I lurched my way over curbs that looked a mile high, maneuvered down hallways that suddenly appeared ridiculously narrow, and endured the awkwardness of people trying to decide whether to help me.

I could not believe how long one day could last. By lunch, I was exhausted and sweaty. And thankful for the chance to eat lunch and talk with people eye-to-eye for an hour. Imagine my frustration when the waiter directed his questions and menu descriptions to my friends, avoiding any eye contact with me. Did he think I was too addled to order for myself?

After lunch I decided to go to the mall on a city bus. The bus driver, who look terrified to see me, had no idea how to work the wheelchair lift. Despite several attempts - with a busload of people curiously observing - the lift wouldn't budge.

Finally, the bus driver looked at me and asked: ``Can you walk just a little bit?''

In truth, I could walk a lot, but I wondered how the question would strike someone who couldn't. Probably like hearing they were a little bit pregnant.

I never made it to the mall that day. I begged off the assignment early, feeling tired, defeated and just a little wiser about the barriers - both physical and mental - that the world holds for people with disabilities.

Clinton too will soon rise from his wheelchair.

But his experience - and his aides' reaction to his chair - offers a valuable lesson in just how far we've come in removing the stigma of a disability:

The answer is this: not far enough. MEMO: To pass along comments or ideas, please call INFOLINE at 640-5555,

and press 4332.

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