STILL TOKING AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

A former member of a pot-smoking church talks about his arrests and
why marijuana should be legal. He was arrested for pot possession at
a marijuana legalization rally last year after lighting up in front of
a cop. Although the charges are a misdemeanor, Jeff Brown, who lives
in a small town outside Orlando, continues to fight them, claiming pot
smoking is part of his religious ritual.

It may seem a tired defense, but Brown and the handful of marijuana
legalization advocates who showed up in court to support him take it
seriously. Brown, 45, looked the part as he sat in Judge Mark Wolfe's
courtroom, waiting for his hearing. His long, sun-streaked hair was
pulled back in an orange band, his kinky beard tickled his sternum,
and he wore his loose-fitting gray suit over a T-shirt for marijuana
legalization.

But Brown is not just a casual pot smoker who's taking a wild shot at
escaping the charges. His life fits his look and his defense. He is a
former member of the Ethiopian Zion Coptic Church in Miami, which got
national attention in the 1970s for arguing that members could legally
smoke pot because it was part of their religion.

In the church's heyday during the mid-1970s, Coptic followers lived in
the Miami church, a $270,000 home on Star Island near homes of
celebrities like Don Johnson. Every morning at 5, Coptics sat in
separate circles, smoking pot from a clay pipe and chanting Christian
songs. Their voices and the heady smoke wafted through the tony
neighborhood, irritating other residents. A fight over zoning and
marijuana use ensued that ended up in Tallahassee at the state Supreme
Court. The national media descended; 60 Minutes taped men, women and
children inside the church toking.

Brown, a Miami native, said he got involved with the Coptics when he
was around 20. "They told me if you are looking for God you have to
look within," Brown said. "Everybody had always been saying just
the opposite. And I liked marijuana. That drew me."

The church had no connection to the Coptic Church of contemporary
Ethiopia and Egypt, nor did it have any doctrinal link to the
Rastafarian faith in Jamaica, even though it grew from there. It
relied on the Christian Bible, but its interpretations differed from
conventional faiths. For instance, the church taught that abortion was
wrong, but members were comfortable using four-letter words to oppose
it. And the church was strict in many of its rules. Men didn't cut
their hair or beards.

The state Supreme Court ruled against the church on the Miami zoning
issue, but did not specifically prohibit pot smoking at other
locations. But all the attention was like dropping a ball of spun gold
from a rooftop: the Coptic world unraveled fast. Brown was among 19
church members indicted by a federal grand jury in 1979 on charges of
drug smuggling and possession. From 1973 to 1979, state and federal
drug enforcement seized 105 tons of pot from church members in
Florida, New Jersey and Jamaica. Federal authorities said it wasn't
humanly possible for the estimated 2,000 members to smoke that much
pot. And numerous informants, along with the luxurious lifestyle
associated with the church, indicated the pot was being sold. The DEA
found that the Zion Coptic Church owned thousands of acres in Florida
and Jamaica, as well as luxury cars and eight oceangoing vessels.

"Money became all too important," Brown said of the church.
"They had a hierarchy set up. It wasn't right in a lot of ways. Some
of the basic teachings were right on. They taught to love one another.
And that the plant wasn't harmful."

The church continued its pot-related activities while arrested members
were released on bond. In 1981, several Coptics, including Brown, were
arrested in Maine for attempting to smuggle 34 tons of pot. All their
prayers couldn't keep them out of jail.

Brown was convicted of drug smuggling and pot possession on the
initial charges later that year. He was convicted of the Maine charges
shortly thereafter. He spent five years in federal prison, where he
continued to puff his faith until the prison began urinalysis testing
in 1984. Brown tested positive. "They put me in the hole," he said
of his punishment. "The first time they would put you in for 15
days. The next time, 30. That pretty much shut things down."

After being released from jail, Brown spent about 10 years in the
hills of Jamaica. He became Rastafarian, a Jamaican religion that also
advocates pot use. He said he didn't agree with some of the Coptic
tenets, such as sharing pot with kids.

Meanwhile, the Ethiopian Zion Coptic Church has fallen apart. The
Internal Revenue Service slapped a $2.7-million lien against the
church and confiscated the house. Lawyers and other parts of the
government got what was left.

About five years ago Brown returned to Florida to be closer to his
family. He now helps run a shopping center for a friend in Clermont.
The charges he faces in Tampa stem from a pot legalization rally held
in February 1999 at Lowry Park Bandshell in Tampa. One of his friends
was being arrested for lighting a hemp bomb. Brown, angry, proceeded
to light a joint in front of the police.

"They arrested a friend of mine, and I decided to be an idiot,"
Brown said. "In reality it was a peace offering."

Brown, who is representing himself, asked for the charges to be
dismissed, claiming that they violate Florida freedom of religion
laws. A Tampa judge rejected that argument, but Brown has appealed
that decision. In the meantime, he has pleaded no contest to the
possession charges. If he loses his appeal, the punishment for his
crime will be probation, community service, fines and a drug test. The
latter is what Brown says he's trying to avoid.

Although Brown could easily be called a marijuana extremist because of
his days with the Coptics, supporters of marijuana legalization aren't
just longhairs anymore. New Mexico's governor has even campaigned for
legalization. Last month, thousands of protestors showed up for pot
legalization rallies around the nation, including St. Petersburg and
Tampa. Nine protestors were arrested in Tampa.

Wearing a T-shirt professing marijuana's finer points, Michael Henkel,
a former state house candidate, argues that denying people the right
to smoke pot is against the First Amendment. Henkel and Robert Quail,
president of the Pinellas County chapter of the National Organization
for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, said marijuana is less harmful than
a shot of whiskey, and it also can help save the environment. Its
marginally psychoactive sister, hemp, was used to make paper, fabric
and fuel until cannabis was prohibited in the 1930s.

Brown calls it "a gift from God." If people were allowed to grow
pot, it would eliminate the black market that he left behind. Although
he no longer condones the Coptic lifestyle, he gets a tad wistful when
recalling it. "It was quite interesting. I was young, traveling
around on boats in the Caribbean."

"I've been behaving myself," Brown said. "It (the Tampa protest)
was just a situation."