DOWNTOWN GETS A LIFT FROM HEMP

Boosters of hemp say it's a wonder drug -- er, plant -- that has the
potential to save the rain forests, our digestive systems and everything in
between. But here's the real challenge. Can it revive downtown Antioch?

Odd as the notion may sound, consider this: The newest business in that
long-struggling retail district is Hemptown, a 4-month-old emporium that
sits between a gun shop and a pool hall. Across from City Hall, too.

You can buy hemp sandals there, and hemp shampoo. There is belly chain
jewelry made of hemp fiber and Hempermint soap and Mama Indica's Hemp Seed
Treat, a power bar guaranteed to give you a boost.

Despite what you might think, this is no dimly lit head shop. Hemptown is
bright and spacious, with a painting outside that shows the planet Earth
sporting shades and a cocky grin. In a retail district that peaked 40 years
ago, where empty storefronts are never out of view, Hemptown arrives as a
breath of fresh air.

And I emphasize the word ``fresh.''

``When it comes to hemp, you're in it for the dope or the rope,'' says
Jennifer Newton, who opened the shop with her partner, Bill Roark. ``We're
selling the rope.''

In other words, the emphasis of Hemptown is industrial hemp, the sober
cousin of the cannabis that is grown to be rolled and inhaled. According to
boosters, the hemp plant can be harvested as a fabric stronger than cotton
or converted into a better energy source than oil. The seeds are rich in
essential amino acids and protein. As a crop, it has no nasty environmental
side effects.

Jennifer's a fervent crusader. She's also a retailer who knows that stores
do not prosper by hemp alone, certainly not when they're 39 miles south of
Davis and 28 miles east of Telegraph Avenue. That's why there's incense
(``natural, not tested on animals,'' Jennifer stresses) and sunglasses and
a rear wall covered with skateboards.

Those boards are what bring a steady stream of Antioch teens into the shop
- -- and for that matter, into a part of town many of them never even thought
of visiting before.

``I always hated downtown,'' confesses Dan Hamilton, a freshman at Los
Medanos College in Pittsburg who belongs to a skateboard team that Hemptown
sponsors. ``I heard about the store from a friend, got some (skateboard)
wheels here, and now I like coming by.''

For Jennifer, an Antioch native who sold tie-dye at festivals before
deciding to open a store, there was never a question of locating anywhere
else.

``The rent was attractive, but mainly I like that it's historic -- just
like hemp,'' she says, tossing in a quick pitch for the product out of
habit. ``Downtown's cozy and quaint.''

These days, downtown is known as ``Rivertown.'' And when it comes to their
new neighbor, the other businesses are going with the flow.

``The reaction's been more positive than negative,'' says Rick Carraher,
whose Rick's on Second is a popular spot for breakfast and lunch. ``It's
not what you expect to find here, it's more like something in Berkeley. But
it's cute and kept up very well.''

Give credit to Jennifer. One day when I was there, she dispatched a shopper
to tell some kids outside to stay off their skateboards. She describes her
clientele as ``really good. Sometimes they leave sodas outside, but I get
on them.''

She belongs to the Antioch Chamber of Commerce and describes her fellow
members as ``wonderful people.''

``She's incredibly conscientious,'' Carraher says. ``We all appreciate that.''

They should. Creative entrepreneurs like Newton are exactly what a place
like Rivertown needs.

Antioch's downtown is like scores of others found in older American cities,
an attractive place where the streets are lined with dignified buildings of
brick and stone. It's easy to imagine a time when it was the hub of
activity, the spot everyone visited to pick up their clothes, their
hardware, their local gossip.

But that's before malls and superstores. It's also before Antioch became a
city of 80,000 people where nearly all the working adults work outside of
town. Downtown's not downtown anymore, it's a stylish relic.

So if someone comes in with new blood and new ideas, more power to them.
With lines of $75 hemp sweaters displayed efficiently in gleaming racks,
this isn't a knickknack shop for the glazed-eye set. It's a reminder that
eastern Contra Costa contains different types of people with different
types of interests.

At the very least, it's the only place around where you can buy Mary Jane's
Hemp Pops, flavored with -- guess what -- hemp.

``Those definitely are . . . interesting,'' Jennifer says dubiously. Hey,
even the biggest booster knows there's a limit.