DON'T BOGART THIS COLUMN, DEAR READER...

Ah, yes, the good old days. Contrary to what some social conservatives would
have you believe, life was never as squeaky clean and boring as those who
make a living out of blasting the culture of the '60s claim. The right of
individuals to get high without fearing the wrath of the state was indeed
the norm in the country going back to the founding fathers.

The tradition continued with the early settlers of what is now known as the
Westside of L.A. Take the witness of Raymond Davis, now 90, who was honored
Tuesday as the last survivor of Santa Monica College's first class, which
graduated 70 years ago. Davis lived in Venice in those days and told Bob
Pool of the Times that it was quite bucolic, what with the neighborhood
fields along the canals just teeming with wild growth marijuana, or "loco
weed," as it was called. That was just before anti-drug zealot Harry
Anslinger, the first head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, got us rolling
down the slippery slope of reefer madness.

But before the invasions of the anti-drug warriors, one could enjoy God's
gift to our tranquillity free of charge and without concern for the coppers
who had better things to do than arrest people for getting high while
watching one of our priceless sunsets.

The whole sad tale of how a natural and basically mild substance, certainly
less threatening to one's health than alcohol, came to be viewed over the
next 60 years as the scourge of the land and an excuse for destroying the
lives of millions while enhancing police power to frightening proportions is
revealed in a must-see documentary, "Grass," showing at the Nuart Theater at
11272 Santa Monica Blvd., West Los Angeles. It's having its L.A. premiere
tomorrow night and running through June 28.

Ron Mann, the great Canadian documentary filmmaker, has made the ultimate
pot movie, using 400 hours of archival material and the classic pot-culture
songs, including "Rainy Day Women Nos. 12 & 35" (with its chorus "Everybody
Must Get Stoned'), which was made available for a pittance by a normally
reluctant Bob Dylan only after he saw the rough cuts of the film and
respected it so. There are 39 other songs in the score, and the script is
narrated by Woody Harrelson, who has had the guts to force this issue to the
public's attention. Call the Nuart for screening times at 478-6379.
Unfortunately, I don't think they'll be serving brownies.