By Joyce Scanlan

(Editor’s Note: On July 24, 2009 the members of the NFB of Minnesota, staff and students of Blindness: Learning in New Dimensions (BLIND), and friends of both organizations gathered to celebrate the final payment of BLIND’s mortgage on the building at 100 E. 22nd St., jointly owned by the two. NFB of Minnesota did not have a mortgage, having paid cash for its share in the ownership of the building. Joyce Scanlan is the founding executive director of BLIND, and the past president of NFB of Minnesota. She gave the following address as the keynote of that event.)

This is indeed a fantastic day of celebration for both the National Federation of the Blind of Minnesota and for Blindness: Learning in New Dimensions (BLIND), Incorporated. As far as I’m concerned, no one at all should be surprised. Yes, there were those who said early on in our existence, “Oh, they’ll be gone by April.” That was more than twenty years ago. Of course, they never said which April, so we were never very worried. We’ve already celebrated the twentieth birthday of the training program itself; but here we are toasting another glorious occasion: the final payment on our building mortgage. After fifteen years of on-time payments to TCF Bank, our two favorite organizations are the proud owners of this exquisite facility. It is now our very own, bought and fully paid for. I can’t wait to see that mortgage consumed by the flames. The deed is now wholly ours, and we have the papers to prove it.

Let me go back a bit and talk about some interesting background information that some of you may not have heard before. When we opened BLIND, Inc. in 1988, this very building was on the market for sale. The price didn’t matter; we didn’t have a dime to buy it anyway. Buying our own building at that time just wasn’t on our radar.

However, five years later, after we had survived the 3-year establishment grant business, we began to see a little more black in our budget and decided we could afford a down payment to purchase our own building. We began shopping around. We actually looked at 16 possibilities and ultimately selected this edifice. But that was after making down payments on two other buildings, one former funeral home and/or restaurant on Harmon Place, and one sort of sportsy/entertainment facility on the corner of 24th and Blaisdell. It had turned out in both cases that the former owners backed out of the deal — nothing to do with our interest or ability to pay. Luck was truly on our side because this building then came on the market again. Students, staff and board members approved of the purchase, after several inspections, so we signed the purchase agreement and confidently moved forward to raise the necessary money to become proud property owners.

Let me tell you of our unfortunate experience with a fundraising outfit to whom we paid $15,000 to help us raise the much-needed cash. They eagerly accepted our money and proceeded to do absolutely nothing to bring in money. We learned later that these two women had persuaded themselves that we were not going to make it to closure on the building anyway, so they disappeared without any explanation whatsoever. They took our money and ran, literally. Little did they know that we had real friends; we knew the treasurer of the NFB of Minnesota and there was no way we would be left in the lurch. With the partnership of the Federation, we were successful in coming up with the necessary $105,000 on the day we closed on the sale, December 27, 1993.

Many of you know of the razzle-dazzle the local Whittier neighborhood raised when word spread that blind people had bought this building. “Oh, blind people would never be able to appreciate the grandeur of this building.” “The building should return to being a private home with a family living there.” The negative talk was rampant up and down the public streets, in the neighborhood restaurants, and in the private homes. After pleading our case at multiple neighborhood gatherings making our reasoned case for being worthy of living in the community, the Whittier group held its secret meeting and voted 27 to 3 to accept us as property owners in their auspicious neighborhood.

Little did they know that we, too, had qualms about bringing our programs into these surroundings. We went to the local police department to check out the safety record of the area. When we asked the officer about Whittier’s crime rate, he asked us where we were now living. We told him we had been on Fifth Street downtown for several years, and he just laughed. I’m not sure he was right, but his laugh indicated that at least in his mind, Whittier was safer. That was enough to convince us that we could weather the strife in Whittier.

One more brief story about our early struggles in the neighborhood — our next-door neighbor vigorously objected to our moving in right next to his property. Within one month of our arrival, which was on March 26, 1994, he filed a lawsuit against us charging that our presence next to him devalued his property by $100,000, and he was suing us for that amount. Our attorney, Fred Ojile, put a quick end to the guy’s charges, and our enraged neighbor disappeared, leaving his house in a devastated condition and in the hands of the bank. We’ve had at least three more owners in that house since, without a bit of trouble from any of them.

Moving into the building was another traumatic adventure for many of us. Both the Federation and BLIND, Inc. moved in at the same time. Boxes were piled everywhere, and some students were trying to be helpful, while others were looking for hiding places to avoid the heavy work. Remember, we had no kitchens; contractors and architects were busily drawing up designs with the home management instructor so that work could begin as soon as possible. Tensions were high and tempers were short. Everyone survived, but we all heaved a big sigh of relief when the move was finally over.

The new building was a major change from where we had been. Our previous digs had consisted of about 3,700 square feet, all on one floor, and here we now had settled into about 27,000 square feet spread out over four floors. Well, our space was on three floors, because the Guthrie Theater people were on the fourth floor for the first two years.

Owning our very own space was a new adventure for all of us. For the first several years, we were in the midst of construction, the kitchens, the accessible bathroom and ramps, the elevator, the woodshop, fire doors, the front steps and sidewalk, and on and on. We were fortunate to receive an accessibility grant from SSB to make our building acceptable for everyone. Dealing with the city on every construction project was another challenge and has been ongoing to this very day. And, Shawn, you may as well get used to it; it will go on forever and ever. Once you take ownership of a building such as ours, it will take on a life of its own and grab a major chunk of yours also.

We must pledge to ourselves that we will care for this building with all the upkeep, remodeling, and beautifying as its age and our reputations and finances require; but we can never forget the first priority must be our students and the fine program we operate within these walls. I have definite faith that both the Federation and BLIND, Inc. board and staff will never forget or abandon our original purpose in creating this program — to provide quality training for blind people and to guarantee their future success in leading meaningful and productive lives. That was our pledge to one another in the beginning, and it remains so today and will always be so. We know we can learn from history, but we must keep our focus on the future. Life does change, and we must be focused on the changing needs of our brothers and sisters who are blind.

Here is a well-known poem, which speaks to the future and our connection to it. It speaks of passing the torch and embodies a Federationist philosophy of consideration for those who come after us:

The Bridge Builder

By Will Allen Dromgoole

An old man, going a lone highway,

Came, at the evening, cold and gray,

To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,

Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;

The sullen stream had no fear for him;

But he turned, when safe on the other side,

And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim, near,

"You are wasting strength with building here;

Your journey will end with the ending day;

You never again will pass this way;

You've crossed the chasm, deep and wide--

Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?"

The builder lifted his old gray head:

"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,

"There followeth after me today,

A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,

To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.

He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;

Good friend, I am building this bridge for him."

Let us all keep this philosophy in our hearts and minds as we move forward in the years ahead.