Citizen Candidate: Bruce Margolin

CANDIDATE SAYS POT CAN CURE AILING STATE

'Marijuana Attorney' Advocates Legalizing It

The only recall candidate identified as "marijuana attorney" on the
ballot offers a dope-centric plan to ease the state's budget problems,
fix its schools and relieve its overcrowded prisons:

Legalize it -- and then tax it.

"When I tell people that, everybody says, 'I've been talking about
that for years,' " 62-year-old Bruce Margolin said Wednesday before
wrapping up a six-day campaign swing through Northern California,
solidifying his core constituents at pot clubs and last Sunday's
Comedy Day in Golden Gate Park.

Margolin supporters love to laugh, especially after tapping into
California's most lucrative cash crop, an herb that the longtime pot
advocate said could rescue California.

Even using "grossly underreported" national drug use survey figures
that estimate that 1.6 million Californians have sparked one up in the
past month, the Beverly Hills resident projects that a buck-a-joint
excise tax could raise $1 billion from the coughers for the coffers.
And that doesn't even include the economic activity that dope cafes,
paraphernalia and industrial hemp could generate.

If only . . .

Hemp aside, Margolin wants to use the governor's bully pulpit to gain
more insurance industry acceptance for holistic health therapies from
acupuncture to yoga. Making California a magnet for such treatments
could bring in more money from outsiders seeking help they can't get
in their home states, he figures.

While marijuana legalization arguments are well-known to any Bay Area
resident who has tried some once at a party, Margolin is running for
governor so he can turn on the unenlightened. In that respect, he's
like other recall candidates hoping to grab a ray of attention for a
pet issue.

One difference is that Margolin's pet issue is illegal.

"There's a stigma to it, but I'm used to bucking the system," said
Margolin,

who has been involved in 5,000 dope cases in his 35-year law career
and has directed the Los Angeles chapter of the National Organization
for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, known as NORML, for 30 years.

"For me, this candidacy was a success when they said it was OK to list
'marijuana attorney' on the ballot," Margolin said. "It shows there is
a legitimacy to it."

Indeed, all five candidates in this month's televised debate in Walnut
Creek -- including Republicans Peter Ueberroth and state Sen. Tom
McClintock --

said the state should be free to carry out Proposition 215, the
medical marijuana initiative that ran afoul of the federal government.
And Green Party candidate Peter Camejo has advocated legalizing and
regulating marijuana.

"But none of the others have been willing to go beyond" advocating
medical marijuana, said Margolin, who is running as a Democrat.

Margolin, ahem, has a note from his physician and smokes "when it's
appropriate." And that's all he's saying about his personal
association with pot, which began when a high school friend shared a
joint with him in 1962.

Standing a trim 5-feet-6 in his navy-blue suit, with a finely coiffed
gray beard connecting to a fringe of hair, Margolin is far from a
Cheech and Chong caricature. He meditates daily and does yoga three
times a week. His campaign cards feature him in the lotus position --
in that navy-blue suit -- under the headline, "If a Hollywood he-man
action hero can be governor, why not a man with a calm mind and an
open heart?"

On Tuesday night, he was up late counseling the wife of Tommy Chong,
the dope-movie icon sentenced last week to nine months in prison for
selling bongs and pipes over the Internet.

In July, Margolin hosted a fund-raiser for a longtime friend,
spiritual leader Ram Dass, who has been struggling with medical bills
since suffering a stroke. "Medical marijuana has really helped him,"
Margolin said.

Carrying the legalization mantle has other challenges -- like
Wednesday, when Margolin tried to set up a photo opportunity at a
downtown San Francisco pot club. The club's proprietor, David ("Just
David. No last name."), seemed a little paranoid about hosting a
campaign stop.

Which may explain why he wasn't answering the door.

"Bruce, do you have his number?" asked Tara Dass, who identified
herself as Margolin's spiritual partner. These days, she's also the
sum total of his campaign staff.

Margolin dug through the scraps of paper in his wallet and pulled out
one with the proprietor's number. Minutes later, Margolin was walking
20 steps below ground to the CMC club located . . .

"Don't list the location," David said. "And no photos of the outside
of the building."

Once inside, Margolin's eyes warmed at the intimacy the black-painted
brick walls offered. This could be the future, Margolin said. A safe
place, away from children, for enthusiasts to indulge "what is
essentially a benign drug."

Margolin's recall campaign is another chapter of a crusade that
pervades his life. From his hemp business cards to his nickname,
"Legalize it," it's all about the cause.