Pubdate: Thu, 20 Apr 2006 Source: Good Times (Santa Cruz, CA) Page: Cover Feature Copyright: 2006 Pacific Sierra Publishing Contact: http://www.gdtimes.com/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/1422 Author: Peter Koht Image: "Don't bogart that joint!" http://www.mapinc.org/images/420.jpg 420: EXPLORING THE CULTURAL HISTORY OF MARIJUANA ON THE DAY (AND TIME) IT MATTERS THE MOST The problem with writing about pot is that due diligence dictates that you get baked beforehand. So ... Check. Is there any food around here? Marijuana is a drug plant. If you smoke it, you get lit, and then everything is different for a bit. It's an occasional habit for many, for some, it's a lifestyle, and others rebuke it with mighty fervor. Criminalized by a number of federal laws starting with the 1937 Marijuana Tax Act, weed used to be thought of as an industrial plant. Harvested and processed to make cheap paper, cloth and rope, Washington grew it, his buddy Jefferson wrote on it and nearly 200 years later, our brave boys used hemp parachutes to safely come down behind enemy lines. While it makes great cloth and threatens the profit margins of the petrochemical industry, the real reason for the federal government's disapproval lies in the flowers. Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), a complex compound capable of altering perception and metabolism, makes up a healthy percentage of pot's resinous, trichome-flecked flowers. Technically called sinsemilla, but better known as bud outside of reggae tunes, these unfertilized flowers have been a part of American society since the jazz age. Appropriated by the beats, explicitly enjoyed by the hippies and talked up by Snoop, these flowers have also played an enormous role in determining the cultural reality of Northern California in general, and Santa Cruz in particular. It was here on the West Coast where the nerdier nurturers amongst the Aquarians first went into the hills to bend botany to their will and develop incredibly powerful strains like Kona Gold and White Widow. You can't print it, but there's a brand out of the frozen north called "Alaskan Matanuska Thunderf**k." One of the government's chief gripes about marijuana is that in order to supply the vast multitudes who inhale (and enjoy it), a multinational, multibillion dollar criminal economy has emerged. Even with all the discussions surrounding its potential medical benefits and relative harm of marijuana being conducted by academics, scientists, activists and policy makers, the man still brings the hate down on the herb. Marijuana cessation is an important portion of the War on Drugs, which merged with the War on Terror about five years back. Last year, the Office of National Drug Control Policy (ONDCP) distributed $12.5 billion to other federal agencies that attempt to eradicate drugs in the United States. Many millions of those earmarked funds were spent trying to stop the cultivation, transportation, distribution, inhalation or ingestion of any portion of the cannabis plant, and several hundred thousand of those earmarked greenbacks were spent here in Santa Cruz County. The language of the ONDCP's "Drug Description for Marijuana" spells out in no uncertain terms just how dangerous marijuana is to the human body. It cites frequent "respiratory infections, impaired memory and learning ability, increased heart rate, anxiety, panic attacks, tolerance, and physical dependence" as common side effects and consequences of pot abuse. As a nation that has no interest in allowing people to ruin their lives by smoking a noxious weed, federal law also assigns stiff penalties for any citizen foolish enough to come in contact with this member of the plant kingdom. If the Feds come calling, possession of any amount--even as a first-time offender--could cost you a year of your life and $1,000. That's just the possession penalty. Cultivation is an entirely different matter. Growing anywhere from 100 to 1,000 kilograms of herb could get you five to 40 and $2 million in fines. Talk about a buzzkill. The Lowdown on the Big High In the face of such significant penalties, it's amazing to think that anyone is out of the closet about their use of marijuana, but well, here we are. Blame the weather. For better or worse, California is the epicenter of the national debate about marijuana's role in society--legal, medical and recreational--and the policy that's crafted in response to it. Santa Cruz stands at the bleeding edge of these arguments. Pot and politics have long been bedfellows in this county, but the anniversary of their first date is a matter of some debate. It might have been when the university opened in 1965, or when a progressive majority overtook the city council in the early '80s, but the relationship was definitely private until it was vocally outed in the early '90s. The archives of this political affair can be found on Laurel Street at the Compassion Flower Inn. Unique in the frilly world of bed and breakfasts for the fact that it was specifically set up to give medical marijuana patients a safe place to toke on the road, it's run by two women, Andrea Tischler and Maria Mallek, whose sense of hospitality has been honed by decades of standing on the front lines of the drug debate in Santa Cruz County. For them, the Inn stood at the nexus of the two most central tenets of life in Santa Cruz: activism and housing costs. "We decided to open up a bed and breakfast because we were doing restorations on the house," Tischler says as we sit down to coffee and muffins. "The Inn also gives us an opportunity to be a physical presence in the heart of the community and to reach out to the hemp and medical marijuana communities and have some visibility." Within a few moments, activist Theodora Kerry, a long-time proponent of marijuana law reform, enters via the back door. She takes a seat across the table and pulls out a photocopied history of marijuana activism from her satchel. For these two women, their love of the herb is balanced by a deep-seated hatred of the War on Drugs. "The billions we have spent have been focused on incarceration has been a waste" Tischler says. "It's flooded our penal institutions, separated families and shattered a lot of lives ... it's accomplished nothing." Speaking about the dark days before cannabis clubs, ballot measures and vaporizers, Kerry remembers the secrecy that used to surround the conversation about marijuana. "If you were in a straight reality job, you were really quiet about it," she says in between sips from her coffee mug. "By the early '90s people had lived through 10 years of the drug war and Reagan and Bush, and in that context, coming out was really revolutionary. We were opening up a conversation that was very shut down." Though involved in the first statewide attempt to repeal marijuana possession laws in 1973, it wasn't until after the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989 that Kerry began to organize in earnest in Santa Cruz. Nine months after the quake, Kerry and her cohorts brought noted marijuana policy reform advocate Jack Herer, the author of "The Emperor Wears No Clothes," to the Pacific Cultural Center. "We had lines around the block and they had to open up the side doors because the whole area around the Center was overflowing," Kerry recalls, "That's how hungry people were to have this conversation." While dedicated to the ultimate legalization of the plant, Kerry and her fellow activists, who by this time had taken the name Holy Hemp Sisters, were politically savvy enough to realize that a comprehensive overhaul of national drug policy was an impossibility. So they began focusing on popularizing the idea that the use of marijuana had many therapeutic effects for the chronically ill. In 1992, due in large part to the efforts of these women, voters in Santa Cruz County overwhelmingly approved Measure A, which was designed to recognize pot as "safe and effective medicine," and allow for its use in medical situations, including treatment for cancer, glaucoma and HIV. In the midst of the campaign for the groundbreaking referendum, two local residents Valerie and Mike Corral got busted for growing five plants. The Corrals' involvement with medical marijuana dates back to 1974 when Mike grew a few plants in order to treat Valerie's epilepsy, which was brought on by a horrific car accident. "I read in a medical journal that marijuana was being used to treat lab animals for seizures," Mike recalls. "She was on pharmaceuticals, and it wasn't helping." "I've often referred to it as living underwater," Valerie concurs. "It was overwhelming to stay awake or to carry on a conversation or even to read and talk to others. The pharmaceuticals themselves were debilitating. There is nothing on the streets that I know of that really can render a person so paralyzed as the narcotics that they use to stop seizures. It was a difficult and overwhelming place to live." Over the course of the late '70s, the Corrals gradually reduced Valerie's intake of pharmaceuticals and ramped up her ingestion of marijuana. According to both Corrals, she hasn't had a seizure since. The Corrals' choice of treatment was a private matter until airborne members of the law enforcement community swooped down and uprooted the Corrals' five plants. With the urging of Kerry and Tischler, the couple mounted a spirited defense of their tiny crop. "We challenged the laws using medical necessity as defense," Mike recalls. "It's hard to satisfy but seven-and-a-half months of prosecution later, [then]-district attorney Art Danner decided to drop the charges." "It was probably because of Measure A," Kerry observes. "Without Measure A, she was just another bust. There were other medical patients who were dealing with it privately and going underground, but she aligned herself with our campaign--so she had support." "That was our first foray into politics," Tischler recalls fondly. "We had people that were out and willing to be public. Seventy-seven percent of county voters approved the idea that marijuana could be medicine and that the law should draw a line between medical and recreational drug users." Local activists didn't lose momentum with the victory of Measure A. They made sure that the program that busted the Corrals, CAMP, was subject to some serious scrutiny. More properly known as the Campaign Against Marijuana Cultivation, CAMP was, and still is, a paramilitary task force made up of a coalition of law enforcement agencies charged with eradicating any illicit crops of ganja. In the wake of the vote on Measure A, the federal government upped its annual contribution to the CAMP program significantly, pouring more than $200,000 into Santa Cruz County for fiscal year 1993. For four very public years, from 1993 to 1997, hundreds of people joined Kerry and the Corrals in pushing for a rollback of the CAMP project. Armed with both helicopters and the money to fly them, the CAMP program logged hundreds of hours in the air over Bonny Doon and the North Coast as well as closely sweeping the urban corridors of the San Lorenzo Valley. "I routinely voted against the appropriations," recalls Gary Patton, who used to warm the Third District Supervisor's seat at the County Government Center. "The San Lorenzo Valley Supervisor [Fred Keeley], and I usually voted against it because the program resulted in many citizen complaints about low flying helicopters. Every year, the sheriff at the time, Al Noren, would get up and tell us how great it was and there was always citizen opposition." "Al Noren would never speak with me," Valerie Corral says, recalling the ex-sheriff. "He has that right as an individual, but not as a representative of the community. He was unwilling to have a regard for change. That is an important element for someone to have when they work with a community that is always on the brink of it." As the debate over CAMP intensified, a wide coalition of activists including the Green Party, the ACLU and Veterans for Peace joined forces to point out the intrusive and alarming practices being perpetuated upon rural residents. With the election of Sheriff Mark Tracy and the help of more open-minded politicians like Patton, Keeley and, later, Mardi Wormhoudt, Santa Cruz County residents and activists were able to open up dialogues and actually force concessions out of the program. Urban overflights were cancelled, flight times were cut back from 170 hours to 60 and minimum altitudes were increased. There was much rejoicing. Two Novembers after Measure A passed, all of California got to weigh in on the medical marijuana debate. More than 55 percent of state voters approved of the Compassionate Use Act of 1996, better known as Proposition 215. Primarily constructed to ensure "that patients and their primary caregivers who obtain and use marijuana for medical purposes upon the recommendation of a physician are not subject to criminal prosecution or sanction," Proposition 215 "changed the whole climate" surrounding marijuana as a political issue. According to Tischler, "It gave us permission to talk about it and try new directions." But it also flew in the face of federal law enforcement. It eliminated many worries for those involved in the medical marijuana movement in California, but weed itself still wasn't legal. "Part of the issue is the misunderstanding of the law," says Santa Cruz Police Chief Howard Skerry. "Proposition 215 (and the resultant Health and Safety Code section) exempts patients and/or their caregiver(s) from criminal prosecution if they meet certain criteria, it did not "legalize" marijuana." But both Measure A and Proposition 215 did open the doors a bit wider for the establishment of both stationary marijuana dispensaries and growing collectives like WAMM, the Wo/Men's Alliance for Medical Marijuana. In 1993, WAMM, launched by the Corrals, began distributing medical marijuana to patients in the area free of cost. "WAMM grew from the desire of people who were facing death who required medicine and a wanted to be part of something bigger than themselves before they died," Valerie Corral recalls. Starting with three people meeting at the Santa Cruz AIDS Project, then moving to the Louden Nelson Community Center before hightailing it out to the hills, WAMM has been at the center of the medical marijuana movement for most of the last decade. Still run by the Corrals, the group gained national notoriety in 2002 when the DEA descended upon the groups' North Coast plot in a predawn raid and confiscated 167 plants. Outrage was swift and fervent. City council members passed out pot on the steps of city hall, local law enforcement came out in favor of the group and public sympathy was overwhelming. While the DEA eventually released the Corrals and didn't prosecute them for drug trafficking and cultivation. The scars from that raid are still fresh. "It was appalling that law enforcement came in under the cover of darkness where there was no protection there or even an electric fence," says Christopher Krohn, who was mayor at the time. "They threw people in the back of a van. It was devastating. I was getting phone call after phone call that day." Now Kerry and Tischler's group, Santa Cruz Citizens for Sensible Marijuana Policy, is trying to get another petition on the City ballot. This time out, they are bypassing medical issues and going straight for the heart of the War on Drugs by targeting the laws prohibiting recreational use by private citizens. The petition asks local law enforcement to assign the lowest priority level possible for enforcing the prohibition against marijuana use in private homes in the city. Statistics provided by the police department indicate that 257 police reports were filed referencing marijuana use or possession in 2005. Though both the city attorney and the police chief have raised significant questions about the legality of the referendum, Tischler and Kerry see the fight as part of their ultimate goal of eradicating all prohibition on the usage of cannabis. "The medical marijuana issue has eclipsed the whole debate, but it's only one step in the process," Kerry says. "Our bigger picture is the full legalization of the plant for all its uses." Citing the power of marijuana activists and the work that they have accomplished both socially and legislatively, Supervisor Wormhoudt believes that Measure A and Proposition 215 are both examples that criminalizing marijuana, particularly medical marijuana, has "outlived its period of social acceptance." "My own sense of it is that we live in a country with a failed drug policy," she continues. "We lost the War on Drugs. We lost it decisively a long time ago. It's a failed strategy." On the Beat Yet even if the plant is legalized, there's still the thorny issue of how to get high. Unless you're going to waste a perfectly good apple by hollowing out a perfectly bad pipe, you're going to need to visit a head shop. While you can solicit for sex, gamble and drink until dawn in Nevada, selling drug paraphernalia, could earn you one to four years in jail and a $5,000 fine. Federal laws are even more severe. Just ask Tommy Chong. Almost three years ago the counterculture icon pled guilty to a single federal count of conspiring to distribute drug paraphernalia and received nine months in the pen and a $103,000 forfeiture for helping to get his son's business, Chong Glass/Nice Dreams off the ground. Locally, proprietors of head shops have less to worry about. Four stores on Pacific Avenue are happily engaged in the trade of tobacco smoking accessories--and business is good. "One major misconception I had when I began working in this business five years ago is that I thought that the tobacco accessory demographic was limited to your typical 18 to 25 young adults," says Uriah Wilkins, the manager of downtown Santa Cruz's oldest smoke shop, Pipeline, which has been open since 1977. "But this is the furthest thing from the truth. We get everyone in here, from lawyers, politicians, and teachers to moms and dads. We serve two generations of this diverse demographic." Shops like Pipeline also support a handful of very talented artisans. "I used to be an electrician," says Bryan Heath, whose company, Jedi Glass Works, supplies smoke shops with elaborate and intricate smoking utensils. "I ran into a friend who blew glass a few blocks away from my work over there and within in a few years I started making my own pieces." Almost a decade later, he's glad that he changed trades. "I love it," he continues, "It's fun. I get to make things that make people happy. It's way better than being an electrician. I can see myself doing it forever." While beautiful, it's this sentiment that has been driving the more conservative end of the spectrum so insane for so long about this debate around marijuana. "The biggest danger is people abusing it and not striving to better themselves or get out of the funk that they are in," says Jerry as he recalls many of the clients he's met in his nearly two decades of surveying a stoned population as a local pot dealer. Now serving around 40 clients, some of whom phone weekly--others check in around twice a year--Jerry has been slinging weed since high school. "I got into this by experimenting with growing a few plants," he says wistfully. "I hooked up a few friends and then I realized that, yeah, you can grow money." Since most of the people that Jerry delivers product to are working folks, the hours tend to run pretty late. His clientele ranges from single mothers in their fifties to young entrepreneurs to even younger couples still struggling with midterms. Making the rounds with Jerry by bicycle and dropping off satchels of herb is a mostly pleasant affair. No one ever objects to my presence as an accessory at any of the illicit rendezvous--even when I'm identified as a reporter. Trained by years of TV dramas to believe that all drug dealers are slick businessmen with itchy trigger fingers, watching Jerry work is a revelation. He's friendly, he's funny and he treats his rounds as more of a social than financial transaction. Like a therapist or a bartender, he spends the visits mostly by asking his customers about their jobs and their partners. Selective about his clientele, most of his customers are long term, and as such, Jerry's working environment is so pleasant and relaxed that it takes almost 15 minutes to realize that he'd left his backpack at the last home we visited. Circling back, we return to find the house dark and the cars gone. While the satisfied customers are out running errands or grabbing dinner, thousands of dollars' worth of bud is sitting unnoticed under their kitchen table. This never happens on Miami Vice. Now a dealer with no product to sling, Jerry suggests talking at a local bar. He's buying. Even by cutting the rounds short, he's way ahead on the night. At the street level, herb goes for about $50 for an eighth of an ounce (roughly 3.5 grams for the metric fans out there). Ounces, or ogres as the paranoid like to refer to them over the phone (like the FBI doesn't know), run around $400 and pounds will set you back around $3,500. "When it was good, at the peak of the market, I was making $40,000 cash a year," Jerry says, reclining in his chair after a hectic three-hour workday. "It's slowed down. It's a lot more of a buyers' market now because everyone and their mom is growing." Admitting that sometimes the paranoia runs deep, Jerry says Santa Cruz is a pretty ideal place to take up the pot trade. "I could see doing it in other cities," he says, "but it was easy to get into it here. People wanted to smoke it. I grew some. It was just easy. I see that there is safety in numbers here. The police have higher priorities than me. I'm just in the middle." Don't Hold Your Breath Tom Petty is right. Coming down is the hardest part. This tale has no real ending. Like many of its users, marijuana is in limbo right now. It's ubiquitous but it's still illegal. Despite its pervasiveness, it's still taboo, which in the end might add it its appeal. Whatever happens with the Feds and their helicopters, or the petition and its signatories, the discussion is sure to continue for years to come. And no matter what the current (or any other) presidential administration thinks, a certain portion of the population--from grandmothers to high school metal fans--is going to occasionally sneak away from their responsibilities and burn one down. Sunsets will be watched, guitars will be strummed and someone will get the giggles. So in the spirit of California's own version of Arbor Day, it's appropriate to close out with a primary source. Long before Paul and John sang "Got to Get You Into My Life," or Mr. Marley stirred it up, Art Tatum played a song called "Knock Myself Out." Out in front of Tatum's monstrous piano runs, bassist Chocolate Williams sang the following verse loud and proud: Listen girls and boys I got one stick Give me a match and let me take a whiff quick I'm gonna knock myself out, I'm gonna get groovy I'm gonna knock myself out, gradually, by degrees. [sidebar] FOUR-TWENTY by Henry Jones While the term "420" is now firmly established in the vernacular of cannabis culture, the origin of the term has been clouded by misinformation. The most popular urban myth is that 420 was the number for the California Penal Code prohibiting marijuana, but it turns out that that number is reserved to cite people unlawfully obstructing access to public land. Police code 420 doesn't exist in California. Other theories range from the improbable to the fantastic. Some believe that April 20, or 4/20 is the last day to plant marijuana seeds, or that marijuana has exactly 420 psychoactive chemicals. Neither of these theories add up. Musically speaking, the nursery rhyme "Sing a Song of Sixpence" features the words "four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," but this probably refers to the medieval practice of occasionally placing live birds into pastry shells and releasing them as entertainment during grand feasts. Bob Dylan's song "Rainy Day Woman #12 & 35," with its familiar refrain of "everybody must get stoned," features numbers that multiply to make 420, but frankly speaking it's unlikely that many stoners did the math on this. The real origin behind 420 is somewhat less spectacular. In 1971, a group of kids at San Rafael High School in the North Bay--who called themselves the "Waldos"--began a routine to meet at exactly 4:20 p.m. every day after school to get high. "Four-twenty" soon developed into a code word that the Waldos could use to talk about marijuana around parents and teachers. This history, first reported by High Times, relies on old letters written by the Waldos featuring the earliest known usage of 420 as verification.