Pubdate: Thu, 20 Apr 2006
Source: New Times (San Luis Obispo, CA)
Section: Cover Story, Vol. 20, Issue 37
Copyright: 2006 New Times
Contact:  http://www.newtimesslo.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/1277
Author: Alice Moss and Patrick Klemz
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/mmj.htm (Cannabis - Medicinal)
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/find?115 (Cannabis - California)
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/decrim.htm (Decrim/Legalization)

REEFER GLADNESS

No one laughed when Central Coast Compassionate Caregivers opened on 
April Fool's Day. But of course, it wasn't a joke. People are serious 
about their right to use medical marijuana, and with the opening of 
SLO County's first and only city-sanctioned cannabis dispensary, 
Morro Bay City Officials have unequivocally stated that they're not 
playing around. Yes, this is the same dispensary that was run out of 
Atascadero in February, shortly after owner Charles C. Lynch opened 
up shop there. This time, though, CCCC is being welcomed with 
(mostly) open arms. Is this a medical triumph or a terrible mistake? 
Some people may already have their minds made up about this, but it 
looks like the rest of us will just have to wait and see.

Lynch, for one, seems elated, if a little exhausted. But then, it's 
been only six days since CCCC reopened and he might still be getting 
used to the idea of actually being in business again. He wasn't open 
a month the first time before a judge ordered him to shut down until 
further notice. Even though Atascadero's moratorium banning 
dispensaries had already expired, it came to city officials' 
attention that the business license they issued Lynch was for a 
"health service provider," which didn't exactly apply to medical 
marijuana. They needed time to figure out what, exactly, they were 
supposed to do with him. But closing down meant Lynch had to cut his 
patients off ­ more than 300 in just the first three weeks of 
business ­ from the county's only public supply of medical cannabis. 
So rather than wait for Atascadero to make up its mind, he packed up 
his goods and moved west to Morro Bay, where there was another 
expired moratorium and a willingness by government officials to give 
pot a chance. Lynch, a polite, soft- spoken man with thinning red 
hair and a lilt to his voice that hints at his southwestern roots, 
doesn't care to discuss what happened in Atascadero, saying simply 
that he's trying to put the past behind him. Then he proudly shows 
off his new business license, hanging high in the small foyer of his 
Monterey Street store. "This is the first one in the county that says 
'medical marijuana dispensary,'" he says, smiling in disbelief.

Some Morro Bay residents were shocked to first find about CCCC's move 
in the local news, saying the city never warned them about an 
impending dispensary. In response to these complaints, Mayor Janice 
Peters suggests people should start paying more attention to what 
goes on at City Council meetings. She says that before Lynch ever 
arrived, she and the other city planners had started laying down the 
groundwork for allowing medical marijuana within city limits. "About 
four or five months ago, our moratorium expired and by then we had 
pretty much decided that legitimate use in the city was reasonable," 
she explains. Then CCCC was shut down in Atascadero. "We knew we'd be 
the next target." Sure enough, Lynch came to the city with a request 
to open up in Morro Bay. Peters admits that she'd hoped to have more 
time to establish clearer parameters, primarily to control the future 
growth of dispensaries. But she also believes that she and her 
council members, many whom have known people who benefited from 
medical cannabis, made the right decision. "We wanted to give it a 
chance," she says, " I only hope our community gives it that same chance."

The community, to be sure, is torn over the issue. While the general 
consensus seems to be that medical marijuana should be made available 
to the people who need it, there is some concern that a storefront 
dispensary might be going a bit too far. Worries range from an 
increase in traffic to the area, to heightened criminal activity and, 
because Morro Bay has yet to establish any limits on dispensaries, 
the possibility that pot clubs will soon be popping up all over town. 
Though an uncontrollable explosion of dispensaries is highly unlikely 
(City Attorney Rob Schultz says the zoning restrictions alone make it 
extremely difficult to open such a business), problems related to 
dispensaries in parts of the Bay Area and San Diego suggest that 
these fears aren't completely unfounded.

Lynch appears to be making every effort to ensure that his dispensary 
doesn't cause any problems, and neighbors so far seem to have only 
praise for his outgoing thoughtfulness and courtesy. He even 
installed special fans and an air purification system when the folks 
downstairs at Fidelity National Trust complained of the constant 
smell of marijuana wafting into their office. Even so, Fidelity's 
Assistant Vice President Liz Childres is having a hard time accepting 
that there's a pot dispensary right next door. Though she considers 
herself an advocate for medical marijuana ­ "I voted for Prop. 215," 
she says, ­ she's concerned about the negative impact a publicly 
recognized dispensary might have on the city's image. She would hate 
to see that affect tourism, an industry she relies on in her line of 
work. There's also issue of illegal activities taking place in the 
area, which is why she has arranged to have a security system 
installed in her office ­ even though Lynch has one of his own, 
complete with surveillance cameras and motion-sensitive alarms.

Childres also worries about drug abuse. She estimates that about half 
of the "patients" she's seen walk into CCCC seem to be in fine health 
and don't appear to be in any real need of marijuana. "The older 
people look sick," she insists; they use canes and walkers. "The 
young people ride up on their skateboards. They look perfectly 
healthy." But the truth is, doctors recommend marijuana to treat a 
variety of ailments, not all of them obvious to the casual observer. 
These include, but aren't limited to: glaucoma, asthma, epilepsy, 
depression, nausea, chronic pain, and even drug addiction. And in 
accordance with the law, Lynch requires all of his patients to 
present a doctor's recommendation before they can enter the 
dispensary (because marijuana is a federally banned substance, it 
can't technically be prescribed), which is then verified by a 
receptionist before they can ever get close to the marijuana. Still, 
Childres thinks there's got to be a more reasonable way to deal with 
this. "I don't know why they can't all just take Marinol," she says, 
referring to the FDA-approved marijuana alternative. "The pharmacies 
should be handling this, anyway."

But marijuana dispensaries have also proved to be responsible, if 
unorthodox, businesses in other communities. At the Compassionate 
Center of Santa Barbara, a dispensary that opened in 1999, owner 
Patrick Fourmy says that he has never had any problems with the 
authorities. Furthermore, he thinks it's ridiculous to worry that a 
cannabis dispensary will cause mayhem. On the contrary, he claims, 
properly run dispensaries can actually reduce criminal activity by 
providing patients with a respectable and legal place to get their 
doctor-approved medicine. The key, however, is for dispensary owners, 
their patients, local physicians, and especially the authorities to 
work together willingly and, sometimes, creatively. Local law 
enforcement seems to be prepared to give it a try, even though their 
duties place them directly at odds with the dispensary's practices. 
Morro Bay Police Chief John De Rohan is taking his lead from other 
cities' agencies that are currently dealing with the medical 
marijuana issue. The stance seems to be, if there aren't any 
problems, then there's no reason to get involved. Still, he says, 
what he'd really like is for something concrete to help him "figure 
out this la-la lawlessness."

On the wall next to his business license, Lynch, as required, has 
posted the list of conditions he agreed to when the city granted him 
the license. No one employed by the dispensary may be a convicted 
felon. No one under 18 is allowed without a guardian. No consumption 
of cannabis on the premises. There are more conditions, and Lynch has 
even added a few of his own. Patients may not enter wearing hats or 
sunglasses, they may not consume cannabis within 100 feet of the 
dispensary, and they may not loiter outside the building. Signs 
everywhere remind patients to be considerate of the neighbors by 
stepping lightly and turning off their cell phones. A security guard 
greets visitors at the door and they must present their doctor's 
recommendation and a California State ID in order to be lead upstairs 
by yet another security guard, who takes them to the reception area. 
It's there, in the sun lit room with large window that provide a peak 
at Morro Rock and the Bay, that patients undergo clearance and 
receive their CCCC photo ID card, the front of which bears the Seal 
of California adorned with cannabis leaves.
Of course, there are those people who think "medical marijuana" is 
just a euphemism for legalized pot, but patients who benefit from 
cannabis say they're no interested in legalizing the drug for 
recreational use. In fact, because pot is so potent, Lynch says he's 
more comfortable keeping marijuana under the "medical umbrella." He 
just wants to provide his patients safe and easy access to a 
something that gives them relief from their pain and discomfort, the 
same respect they would get if they were using conventional 
pharmaceuticals to treat their ailments.

Pat, who asked that only his first name be used for this story, lives 
in Paso Robles. He started using cannabis about five years ago to 
treat his chronic back pain, seizures and anxiety. Prior to that, he 
says, he'd spent years trying "a truckload of pain pills. I took 
Vicodan, Norco, Somas, just about every pill there was. But after a 
while, they'd stop working and so I had to take more and more. 
Suddenly I was still in pain, and I was also addicted to pain 
killers." When a doctor suggested he try cannabis, Pat says he was 
desperate, and to his relief it worked. Hardly a miracle drug, he 
says marijuana doesn't take away all of his pain and he knows nothing 
can. But it makes his discomfort manageable, which is more than any 
of those pills did for him. Until CCCC opened, Pat, who isn't able to 
drive, had to get family members and friends to drive him as far as 
Oakland and Bakersfield to get his pot at medical dispensaries. The 
costly drive was so painful for him sometimes that on more than one 
occasion he had to hit the streets to score his medication. He had no 
way of knowing the quality of his purchase and worse yet, a lack of 
local, legal access to pot had forced him to break the law. "I want 
to stay above board with this," he says. "Having a dispensary in the 
area allows me to do that."

For those who might require a little more proof of healing powers of 
pot, consider this: The American Medical Association officially 
recognized the Fourth National Clinical Conference on Medical 
Marijuana, hosted by Santa Barbara City college earlier this month. 
At this fully accredited event, doctors, nurses, researchers, 
clinicians, patients, and advocates from all over the world to 
gathered to discuss the established, debunked, and possible benefits 
of using marijuana as a medicine. Healthcare professionals even 
received official credits for attending the conference, just as they 
would have if they'd attended a conference on heart disease.

"Area 420" lies just beyond a tropical beaded curtain, and it's in 
there that one faces the reality of medical cannabis as a serious 
player in SLO County. Green, sticky buds fill a huge glass display 
case, shelves filled with more than a dozen varieties, all with 
playful names like "Purple Power," "Lemon Drop," and "First Lady." 
It's easy to understand what the neighbors were talking about; the 
thick, musty smell of marijuana fills the air in the windowless room, 
giving the placebo effect of a contact high. A dry erase board notes 
the day's specials. All funniness aside, this is not a joke, and 
Brandon, a patient who also works at the dispensary, explains that 
each variety, grown from cloned plants, provides a distinctively 
different medicinal effect. Patients are encouraged to sniff small 
sample jars to get an idea of what they're choosing, and several 
reference books are available to answer any questions. Of course, he 
says, he's happy to offer advice, but there is usually a period of 
trial and error before patients find exactly what they're looking 
for. Their selection made, patients walk out of the dispensary with 
their purchase in hand along with a list of health and safety 
guidelines for marijuana usage. It certainly gives new meaning to the 
word drugstore.

Things are running smoothly right now for CCCC, but Lynch still has 
to prepare for a possible struggle with the feds, should they come 
knocking on his dispensary's door. With all social taboos he's had to 
break, and the many legal entanglements he continues to face, one has 
to ask the question: Why? After 15 years as a law-abiding member of 
the community and with a perfectly respectable job as a software 
designer ­ why would he want to stir up the community by opening a 
marijuana dispensary? Lynch, who uses marijuana to treat his migraine 
headaches, says he finally got tired of driving to other counties to 
get his medication. His voice cracks a little as he describes the 
first time he purchased cannabis in a recognized dispensary. It was a 
relief, and as a patient who genuinely benefits from this drug, it 
was validating. He's doing this to give the people of SLO the same 
legitimate claim to their rights. "I'm not a criminal," he says in a 
final effort to explain his position. "The law says this is allowed."

Battle Of The Bud

"It was like trying to open a marijuana dispensary in Marlboro 
Country," Lou Koory, Charles C. Lynch's San Luis Obispo-based 
attorney, quipped of CCCC's former home in conservative Atascadero. 
"This is just a much better location in every sense. It just feels right here."

In simple geographic terms, the move to Morro Bay appears a brief 
haul-little more than 17 miles of pleasant, winding mountain road 
separate the two Central Coast towns. Yet, in an ideological scope, 
the dispensary cut a swath across San Luis Obispo County, 
illuminating a stark contrast in the moral and rhetorical climates 
surrounding the rediscovered reality of medicinal legalization. But 
more than that, what Lynch and his coalition of medical marijuana 
users discovered in this transition was a logistical paradox of 
legislation: Crisscrossing and frequently contradicting state and 
federal laws making the true legality of Nurse Mary Jane more a 
matter of opinion than the letter of the law.

Of course, Washington's position on how to approach a medical 
marijuana dispensary from an enforcement angle is clear­"bring 'em 
down." However, in Sacramento, a statement released last year by 
California Attorney General Bill Lockyer coaxed-in a not-so-direct 
directive-police to enforce the state law. Striking a balance in 
areas where medical marijuana storefronts prove more common, like in 
neighboring Santa Barbara County, law enforcement tends to take its 
cues almost primarily from the local government. But this practice 
offers little clarity as the political microclimates surrounding the 
issue continue to spur drastically different legal standards, even 
within individual counties. The result is a general sense of 
confusion, particularly among departments freshly exposed to this new 
breed of establishment, with the metaphorical buck stopping somewhere 
between local DEA office and Never-Never Land.

"There's no clear direction for law enforcement to handle this," 
Morro Bay Chief of Police John de Rohan said. "Hopefully somebody 
will make a decision. Until then, it's a big, conflicting mess."

More than one legal expert approached by the New Times stated the 
flexibility of State Senate Bill 420 ­ an update to Prop 215 designed 
specifically to protect dispensaries ­ tends to promote a trend of 
creative management. With their options wide open, some cities adopt 
and perpetually renew temporary moratoriums (San Luis Obispo, Grover 
Beach); others dig up justification for outright bans (Pismo Beach); 
and still others draft what dispensary owners call de facto bans ­ 
ordinances reportedly so restrictive they make it impossible for 
co-ops to operate. Koory and Lynch believe this to be the case in 
Atascadero, where the city council approved a measure last Tuesday 
putting strict limitations on any primary caregiver looking to take 
center stage as the town's one and only marijuana dispensary.

According to the ordinance, an applicant must establish the 
storefront at least 1,000 feet away from any school, church or park ­ 
a restriction more austere than any Central Coast city places on 
convicted sex offenders, save Paso Robles. But before reaching that 
stage, the prospective caregiver must first file with Atascadero 
Police Chief John Couch, who sets the terms for background 
investigation and can strike down the application at his discretion. 
Surprisingly, no applicants have yet come forward.

All of this begs the question: Where lies the source of all this 
legislative crossfire? It appears a return to Battleground 10th 
Amendment, yet again.

All though semi-officially, not-really-but-kind-of legal in this 
state and ten others, to the federal government, Marijuana still 
falls into the bin of Schedule I narcotics ­ those believed to elicit 
a high potential for abuse and possessing no medically ­ founded 
pharmaceutical value. In a landmark Supreme Court decision last June, 
justices sided with federal law enforcement agencies, upholding the 
constitutionality of raids and investigations conducted in the name 
of the 1970 Controlled Substances Act. The primary petitioner was 
Angel Raich, a 38-year-old medical marijuana patient in Oakland with 
a laundry list of health conditions. The court decided that, even 
though medical marijuana did not constitute an interstate trade, it 
still affected interstate commerce and deserved adequate federal 
attention. Needless to say, the indirect nature of the ruling churned 
up quite a bit of controversy.

"Americans like to put things in terms of war. They call it a war on 
drugs, but really it's a war on patients, a war on people and a war 
on California," Koory said of the decision. "The federal government 
doesn't like its authority questioned."

In the wake of Raich vs. Ashcroft, opponents of medicinal 
legalization declared the end of the pharmaceutical pot debate ­ 
obviously, a false prognostication ­ and also dubbed the decision the 
ultimate justification for federal law enforcement to ignore state 
law. By and large, raids conducted by the DEA or local police in 
California tend to take place in urban areas and involve reports of 
widespread abuse. Officials with the California Narcotic Officers' 
Association (CNOA) said, in many areas of the state, local task 
forces are so consumed up in battling non-medical marijuana growing 
facilities that the ones allowed under 215 are largely ignored. 
Still, the thought of federal officers crashing through glass 
ceilings on zip cords remains plastered to the consciousness of 
dispensary owners.

"It's a definite concern," said Jim McGowen, operator of 
Bakersfield's American Caregivers Association. "We make it a point to 
operate under certain guidelines but there's always the threat of 
federal harassment on the basis of federal laws."

The largest raid to occur in California took place Dec. 12, 2005 when 
DEA officers fanned across San Diego in a move against 13 area 
dispensaries. Because the investigation is still ongoing, DEA San 
Diego spokesman Dan Simmons would not comment on pending charges but 
called the action a 'collection of evidence' and cited the Controlled 
Substances Act as justification. Though supplies of medical marijuana 
were taken as evidence, the only arrests made in the raid stemmed 
from active warrants and other offenses. According to Simmons, one 
man was taken in after arriving at the dispensary with a satchel of 
marijuana and a handgun -­ one of the two items violated local laws.

Unlike Morro Bay, San Diego city and county governments deferred 
regulation of marijuana dispensaries in protest of the SB-420 ­ a 
point made clear in a suit brought recently by the county executives 
against the state. Thriving in this Petri dish of deregulation, 
dealerships continually opened up under the guise of medical 
dispensaries and sometimes, asserts CNOA Executive Director Bob 
Hussey, "changed the whole demographic of the area." In addition to 
angering many neighborhoods where the unbridled pot shops operate, 
these installations drew the ire of southern Californian dispensaries 
striving to operate on the straight and narrow.
"They're doing a great disservice to what we're trying to 
accomplish," vented Virgil Grant, owner of Holistic Caregivers of 
Compton. "You have these idiots who jump in for the wrong reason and 
it hurts the people who need this treatment as an alternative to 
synthetic drugs."

Yet, many local narcotics officers retain certain concerns even if 
dispensaries follow preset guidelines. Lt. Paul McCaffrey of the 
Santa Barbara Police Department ­ who described himself as neutral in 
the medical marijuana debate-lamented on the scarcity of record 
keeping at many dispensaries. "If someone broke into a pharmacy and 
stole Oxycontin, the pharmacist would have an obligation to the 
community to report it-he's in a position of moral trust," McCaffrey 
theorized. "Would you expect a marijuana dispensary to do the same?"

"Why would they?" Morro Bay City Attorney Rob Schultz rhetorically 
responded. Koory answered the claim by pointing out that SB-420 sets 
no requirements for record keeping and believes extensive paperwork 
could open the door to federal harassment of patients.

Whatever the case, Morro Bay city officials plan to take the matter 
in stride until results from San Luis Obispo County's first medical 
marijuana field test begin to trickle in. Meanwhile, the possibility 
of federal intervention quietly looms like storm clouds over the 
Pacific, a point of increasing worry to Lynch as his efforts garner 
greater regional attention. For now, the mild-mannered dispensary 
owner and his outspoken attorney continue to communicate with the 
local government; happy enough this batch of legal potpourri smells 
sweeter than the last.

Regardless, in the event fears of federal investigation actually turn 
to reality in Morro Bay, Schultz outlined the town's possible 
recourse in one word.

"Nothing."

Mari-What?

In addition to Congress, another government body possesses the 
authority to reschedule marijuana as a narcotic. If the Food and Drug 
Administration determined cannabis to offer any medicinal value, by 
definition, pot could no longer constitute a Schedule I substance. 
For 15 years after the Controlled Substances Act passed into law, 
scientists launched a barrage of studies looking to establish the 
efficacy of pot.

In 1985, the FDA approved a THC synthetic, under the trade name 
Marinol, designed primarily to relieve nausea symptoms resulting from 
chemotherapy and trigger appetite in AIDS patients. Although similar 
in their applications, dried marijuana contains a total of 66 
cannaboids, while Marinol just isolates the effect of one-TCH. 
Proponents of medical marijuana call the pharmaceutical offering a 
meager substitute, claiming nausea patients simply regurgitate the 
pill in the 30-60 minutes it takes to dissolve.

Other objections surrounding Marinol include its lofty price, alleged 
ineffectiveness in some treatments where studies show marijuana 
proved effective and, of course, reported side effects. According to 
Dr. David Bearman, a Santa Barbara practitioner who both prescribes 
Marinol and issues recommendations for marijuana on a regular basis, 
patients taking the synthetic pill often complain of severe dysphoria 
(or, mental discomfort). It's an unfortunate effect of what 
recreational users might call 'too much of a good thing'­the narcotic 
element of marijuana running amuck when removed from its natural 
setting. Recent studies indicate a naturally occurring 
non-psychoactive chemical in marijuana called cannabidol (CDB) helps 
take this edge off.

"Marijuana contains 483 chemicals and THC is the most 
pharmacologically active," Bearman said. "The CDB actually helps 
mitigate the excessive euphoria caused by THC."

Arguments in support of Marinol hail it as a safer alternative to 
gambling on the unknown dangers of long-term marijuana use. The FDA 
maintains that no whole plant could ever be considered a 
pharmaceutical product since it's far too difficult to isolate and 
catalogue the effects of every single chemical ingredient. And, even 
though a recent study by UCLA's Dr. Donald Tashkin helped dispel the 
myth that smoked marijuana has a carcinogenic effect, the threat of 
respiratory infection remains. In response to criticisms of Marinol's 
sluggish response time, development of an aerosol delivery system is 
in the works.
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MAP posted-by: Beth Wehrman