Leslie Peterson, a 'great storyteller' turned ally for deaf-blind

Leslie Peterson, a 'great storyteller' turned ally for deaf-blind
Leslie Peterson of Minneapolis was a longtime advocate and role model for people like himself.

By SARAH LEMAGIE, Star Tribune

Last update: July 2, 2010

Lifelong deafness and the gradual loss of his sight did not keep Leslie Peterson from a rich, independent life.

A past president of the Minnesota DeafBlind Association, Peterson, who died June 28, was a longtime advocate for that community, friends and relatives said.

Peterson often spoke to school and community groups, state officials and legislators. "He was a great storyteller," and he worked hard to secure funding for services to help people who were deaf and blind, said longtime friend and interpreter Nancy Evelyn.

Friends and relatives said he helped start a social club for people with deaf-blindness, as well as the association's annual Thanksgiving banquet, where last year he received a lifetime achievement award.

But "his greatest impact to people was simply being who he was, being a role model," said Paul Deeming, a services manager at DeafBlind Services Minnesota. "He is the most independent person who is deaf-blind that I know."

In the early 1980s, Peterson helped to successfully lobby state legislators to fund services for people who were both deaf and blind, said Sharon Plett, also a longtime interpreter.

Peterson, 67, of south Minneapolis, died of lung cancer, though he never smoked, said his daughter, Mitzi Uribe of Coon Rapids.

Peterson had a condition called Usher syndrome, a relatively rare genetic disorder characterized by deafness and gradual vision loss. He was born deaf and started losing his sight at age 14.

Though he was legally blind for decades, he retained some sight until two weeks before he died, his daughter said.

Peterson was born in Montana, the son of a pastor with a large family. After graduating from a school for the deaf, he attended a Bible college in Missouri.

He moved to Minnesota, initially to be near a sister in St. Cloud. He met his future wife, Patti, "on a blind date," Uribe said, laughing.

When they were courting, Peterson used to take the bus to Patti's parents' house in Robbinsdale and walk the last few blocks to their door, which "used to make her family nervous," Uribe said.
Peterson worked as a draftsman for several years -- a job that he loved, but which he eventually had to leave as his eyesight worsened, his daughter said.

"He was really at a point in his life where he had decided to take life by the horns and start preparing himself for being deaf and blind," learning to use a cane and read Braille, she said.
Peterson remained bold his entire life, though he knew the risks, his daughter said. "A lot of times, he would be on a bus and the bus driver would forget to tap him on the shoulder, and he would be completely lost in the community somewhere," she said.

He did his own banking, could install doors and build walls, and even tore down an old garage a few years ago.

"It look him two weeks, and he got lots of cuts and bruises, but he gained lots of muscle tone and he loved it," Uribe said.

He created his own communication system, a flip chart with various messages in large-print and Braille that he used to take the bus and get around in public, Deeming said. Dissatisfied with storebought canes for blind people, Peterson made his own, attaching a pizza cutter to the end so it would roll over sidewalk cracks.

An avid chess player, Peterson would play anyone, Deeming said. "I only saw one person, one time, who ever beat him," he said. Once, Deeming said, Peterson was the only person who showed up to a club meeting at DeafBlind Services Minnesota. Lacking a chess partner, he taught a staffer how to play -- wordlessly.

Peterson is survived by his wife and two children, along with many other relatives. A memorial service will be held at 11 a.m. Saturday at Billman-Hunt Chapel, 2701 Central Av. NE. in Minneapolis, with a gathering one hour before the service.

Sarah Lemagie • 952-882-9016

After 65 years, inspirational leader in nation's deaf-blind community retires

Since I am deafblind person and it is interesting article so I am going to post it here. It was in Minneapolis Star Tribune on 1/17/09.

After 65 years, inspirational LI leader in nation's deaf-blind community retires

By FRANK ELTMAN , Associated Press
Last update: January 17, 2009 - 3:35 AM

PORT WASHINGTON, N.Y. - His memories of Helen Keller are vivid, if not entirely favorable: She had big hands, a forceful personality, and not much of a sense of humor.

But none of that kept Bob Smithdas from working with Keller, icon of the deaf and blind, to persuade Congress to create and fund the Helen Keller National Center in the 1960s. At the Sands Point facility, people who are deaf and blind — as is Smithdas — are taught a range of life skills from communicating to cooking so they can live wherever they want to.

Smithdas, 83, retired Friday as the center's director of community education, a post that capped a 65-year-career as an inspiration and an instigator for improvements in the way deaf and blind people lead their lives.

"There have been two giant role models for the deaf-blind person over the last century: Helen Keller and Bob Smithdas," said Carl Augusto, president and CEO of the American Foundation for the Blind.

In honor of his retirement, Smithdas has been cited in a congressional resolution sponsored by Rep. Gary Ackerman. In addition, Pittsburgh Mayor Luke Ravenstahl has declared Friday "Robert Smithdas Day" in honor of the western Pennsylvania native.

Smithdas was the first deaf-blind man to receive a college degree, graduating from St. John's University 50 years after Keller got her bachelor's from Radcliffe. He was the first deaf-blind person to earn a master's degree (NYU, 1953). He has four honorary degrees from universities around the country.

In 1965, he was named "Handicapped American of the Year" by the President's Committee on Employment of People Who Are Disabled. A decade later, he married Michelle Craig, who also is deaf and blind; she works as an instructor at the Keller Center.

"I feel that what I was doing was creating a pathway for other deaf-blind people to follow," he said during an interview at a diner near his Port Washington home. An interpreter used hand-in-hand signals to communicate with him.

Smithdas lost his nearly all his hearing and sight when he was about 4 after contracting cerebrospinal meningitis. The language he had learned up to then deteriorated, and he was taught Tadoma, a method of communication in which the deaf-blind person places his thumb on the speaker's lips and his fingers along the jawline to understand what is being said.

It led to an unhappy encounters with Keller.

"I had heard that Helen could speak and I wanted to feel her speak, so I reached out to put my hands on her face, hoping that she would speak to me that way," Smithdas recalls. "But to my surprise she slapped my hand away. I wasn't amused. I thought it was a crude gesture."

Smithdas began writing poems as a youngster and has published two collections, "City of the Heart" (1966) and "Shared Beauty" (1983). The Poetry Society of America named him Poet of the Year for 1960-61.

He has also written an autobiography, "Life at My Fingertips."

"I was a model, a representative of the deaf-blind community," he says. "Even if I didn't know it."

Smithdas said he and others had been arguing for a decade for a place like the Keller Center, but it took a rubella outbreak in 1963 and 1964, which produced thousands of deaf-blind babies, to get the center opened.

Joseph McNulty, executive director of the Keller Center, remembers meeting a mother who was touring the facility.

"She came out of Bob's office crying. She told me that when her daughter was born, and she learned she was deaf-blind, reading Bob's life story kept her sane. She said, `Finally meeting him brought me to tears.'"

Journalist Barbara Walters, who spoke at Smithdas' retirement luncheon Friday, said Smithdas was remarkable.

"Truly, the most memorable person I had ever met was Robert Smithdas," she said. "I remember going to Bob's house, and he cooked me a meal. I was amazed he was able to do this and didn't burn his hands."