My dear friend, Arthur Honeyman, died in December at the age of 67. I asked Nickole Cheron if it would be possible to call the Lifetime Achievement Award the Arthur Honeyman Lifetime Achievement Award, and she suggested that instead I nominate Art for the award.
I met Art 12 years ago when I came to Portland State University. I work at the Assistive Technology Center, where Art came to chat and check his email almost daily. Most people who frequent downtown Portland had seen Art—driving his wheelchair with his foot, a yellow flag raised high above him with the words “freedom writer rider.” Anytime I went anywhere in Portland with Art, friends would stop him with a hug or hello. The bartender at Jake’s Grill was telling me the other day that he knew Art well, as he came in often over the years.
In the 1960s Art was the first person with a significant disability to be enrolled at PSU without an attendant. One student with cerebral palsy had gone prior to Art, but his mother accompanied him. Art’s father had to fight for Art to attend PSU, and Art received a BA in English and I believe two Master’s degrees—one in English and one in History. He was one of the students that started the Student’s with Disabilities Union at PSU. He also taught a few literature classes at PSU, one of which looked at the portrayal of people with disabilities in literature.
Art was an accomplished author; his most famous work is the children’s book “Sam and his Cart.” He also wrote astounding epic poems and wickedly funny stories. Art was an early vendor at Saturday Market, selling his books as well as coffee (before the coffee craze). He was an activist—in his home was a picture of him from the 70’s when police dragged him away from the Trojan Nuclear Plant. He also protested the Vietnam War.
So how did Art affect change for people with disabilities? He insisted on accessibility and inclusion his whole life. He always lived independently. For example, he was portrayed in a Hollywood movie, Music Within, which came out in 2007. The movie shows a much younger Art who is denied service at a pancake house because of his disability. Rather than leave, he let the restaurant call the police. That event, Art told me, actually happened.
To me, Art represented the spirit of Portland: a brilliant author with a quirky sense of humor—adored by all who knew him.