Radio Beamis: Local activist David Beamis adds a proposed radio station for the disabled to his busy agenda

David Beamis is not one to hold back from expressing his opinion.

Bus drivers discriminate against him and other disabled passengers? Sue 'em. Valley officials are not providing enough "curb-cuts" for wheelchair accessibility? Lobby 'em. The Las Vegas disabled community is splintered? Unite 'em.

That's what he hopes to do with a grand scheme to establish a radio station aimed at the disabled -- using the in-your-face call letters K-RIP.

While some might hear in "K-RIP" a derogatory term for "crippled," Beamis says that, in fact, the "RIP" refers to Really Important People.

Still, some people who have heard the station's call letters have quickly assumed the worst.

But that's a good thing.

"That's an insult. That's in your face," he says excitedly. "I want to shake you up. I want to hear how you feel about being labeled a "crip." I want to hear from this community. I want to give this community a strong focal point to work through, and the media is the way to go."

Beamis, 55, a "high-level paraplegic" and founder of the 12-year-old nonprofit group the Fremantle Society, is a a longtime activist within the Southern Nevada disabled community.

Orphaned as a teenager, Beamis basically raised himself, put himself through college at Purdue and, in the '70s, made his way to Las Vegas, where he lost a small fortune gambling. He ran a car wash, then did maintenance for a mobile home park in North Las Vegas.

It was there, on Dec. 24, 1979, at 6:30 p.m., that his life was irrevocably changed. A group of men wearing KKK robes and Nazi uniforms jumped the 35-year-old Beamis and beat him with a crowbar for hours, within an inch of his life. They were apparently offended by the sight of a flamboyant Jewish star around his neck.

He can joke about it now ("I looked like a Yiddish Mr. T," he chuckles), but the attack took six months of therapy to work through, and left him to battle dual discrimination: once for his religious beliefs, then again for his physical limitations.

"If you look at my life, I closely relate to intolerance on a grand scale," he says. "It all fits together."

Alan Blum, a local architect and friend of Beamis', became an officer of the Fremantle Society because he believes in what Beamis is trying to do.

"Dave probably never gave too much lip service (to disabled issues) until he got nailed, then he realized the hardship," he says. "He's determined to help other people."

Although the planned radio station is still barely on the drawing board, Beamis articulately outlines his vision: an FM station staffed with disabled workers, airing eight hours a day of programming on issues pertaining to the disabled community. The rest of the schedule would be a mix of jazz, blues and rock music.

As examples of programming, he cites readings for the blind, and shows discussing the latest advances in health care. He is starting modestly, negotiating for an hour radio show called "Adapt Yourself" on an established station.

Beamis says his interest in the medium dates back to when he was 9 and tinkered with a short-wave radio.

But to get this up and running, he has a long road ahead.

Step one, he says, will be setting up the station to "air" via a website (www.fremantlesoc.org) using audio streaming technology, a task he hopes to accomplish by December. Step two is piggybacking on an established station's airwaves, using a part of their "subtransmitter." And step three is obtaining a band for the station. Beamis says he is shooting for an eventual launch next year, when airwaves will become digital, opening up more channel space.

But first, he needs to find a facility, donors for all the computers and radio equipment to produce the programming. He figures it will take $1.5 million to launch the station, and another $1 million a year to run it.

To launch the long task of raising the funds, mobilizing the disabled community and attracting underwriters, he is organizing "Music De Mundo," an Oct. 6 fund-raiser at the World Trade Center casino's Exhibition Hall.

The show will feature local artists Marvin Koral and his All-Stars, including trombonist Carl Fontana, pianist Gus Mancuso, trumpeter Carl Saunders, tenor saxophonist Joe Romano, drummer Pat Shoerrod and bassist Chris Gordon. Also featured will be Rick Arroyo's Latin jazz ensemble, the Bill Cherry Blues Band and vocalists Pamela Keefer, Barbara Davis, Suzanne Farace and Roger Blais.

The show will be taped for video and audio, with tapes available for purchase. The Challenger Newspaper for the Disabled, a co-sponsor of the event, will offer raffles and door prizes.

Those who have worked with him in the past, such as ex-City Councilman Steve Miller, are optimistic about the plan. "Knowing how he perseveres, it wouldn't surprise me," Miller says.

Still, some observers in the field see this as just a pipe dream.

"It would be a great informational tool," says Jack Mays, executive director of the Nevada Disability Advocacy & Law Center. Still, he fears the Las Vegas community may not be large enough to support an entire station. "I would be happy just to see a show," he says.

Similar programs, though, haven't succeeded in this market.

Mary Evilsizer, executive director of the Center for Independent Living, points out that a nationally syndicated show focusing on disability issues called "On a Roll," currently airing in 16 markets, aired from 1993-1995 on KDWN in Las Vegas. It ultimately failed, never finding enough financial support.

And Beamis tried hosting a show two years ago on disabled issues on KLAV called "Wheels," which aired for about six months. It failed financially.

Still, he is confident that the station is the way to go.

"There are more issues than one, one-hour show could provide," Beamis says. "Also, there are many groups that could have a different point of view, and I want to offer them an opportunity to participate."

Vince Triggs, executive director of the Nevada Association for the Handicapped, says the idea has the emotional, if not the financial, support of the disabled community, which he numbers at about 95,000 people in Southern Nevada.

"I think it's a ground-breaking idea," he says. "It pioneers the notion that persons with disabilities can have as much access to public communication as any other individual."

Triggs says his organization prefers to allocate its funding towards providing services, but applauds Beamis' effort. "We wish him a lot of luck on that," he says. "It's going to take a lot of time and effort. It's very ambitious."

Then again, Beamis is known as a man who doesn't think small.

In the past, he has pitched projects such as a condo for people in wheelchairs and a workshop for the disabled, only to be stymied by "stonewalling of lack of funding," Blum says.

"The ideas are great, and Dave bangs his head against the wall, and tries to pull in funding, and it goes upside down," Blum says. "It's not that he doesn't want to finish, but he gets stalemated."

Beamis, however, did see one major project to completion: fighting the defunct Las Vegas Transit Systems for better disabled accessibility on its buses.

That campaign led to his involvement as a member of the Governor's Committee on Employment of People With Disabilities. He was declared one of George Bush's "points of light" and invited to attend the signing of the Americans with Disabilities Act in July 1990 on the White House lawn.

Today, these testaments to his achievement hang on the wall in his small apartment in Henderson.

"I've done what I can, being a public watchdog, and I'm exhausted," he says initially. "I don't have the energy to be the voice of the handicapped community. The better way to do it is to put the radio station on and blast the needs of the community."

Later, though, with the early rumblings of new campaigns and legal battles on his agenda, he seems to change his mind.

"I guess I've got to be the leader again in the community," he sighs. "I guess that's my role in life."

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