CITY'S POT CLUBS LIVE ON

Keeping A Lower Profile, But In Plain View Of The Police

A year after San Francisco's most flamboyant pot club was shut down by a
judge, medical marijuana distribution here is alive and well, with
dispensaries ranging from on-call delivery services to clean, well-lit
retail spaces and funky activist-run storefronts.

With local politicians on their side and plenty of patients flocking in,
four marijuana clubs appear to be quietly flourishing, with a fifth in the
works.

Still in legal limbo, each has constructed its own set of rules. Some, but
not all, of the clubs require proof of a doctor's recommendation, which
Proposition 215 -- the medical marijuana initiative passed in 1996 -- said
patients must have before they could legally smoke pot.

A recent government-commissioned scientific review concluded that marijuana
may help a handful of conditions, such as intractable pain, nausea and
appetite loss associated with AIDS or cancer. But the clubs attract people
with a much broader range of stated ailments, including menstrual cramps,
lupus and migraines.

Many patients also say they need it for psychiatric or psychological
conditions, such as manic depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress
disorder -- even heroin addiction.

Local law enforcement officials maintain a hands-off policy toward the
clubs, which are careful to operate more discreetly than Dennis Peron's
Cannabis Healing Center, where crowds congregated on the sidewalk and
smoked pot in front of TV cameras. The club since has been shut down.

Although they have cited some club members for smoking in public, police
are not overly concerned, according to Lt. Mike Puccinelli, acting captain
of the narcotics division.

"There's so many other problems with narcotics in this city, it's not
really a big priority," he said.

The legal fog the clubs operate in may be clearing somewhat. A task force
convened by state Attorney General Bill Lockyer is about to unveil proposed
legislation to set standards for deciding who is entitled to possess and
use marijuana.

The legislation wouldn't address federal laws outlawing marijuana, although
activists hope that Congress eventually will reclassify it as a
prescription drug.

A draft of the proposal would create a state ID card issued to people with
verified letters from their doctors. It would also sanction distributing
medical marijuana by "cultivation cooperatives," run by and for qualified
patients, as well as by licensed health care facilities, like nursing homes
and hospices.

None of the current group of San Francisco clubs meets those definitions.
One is run much like an ordinary business, with a city license; two others
shun all official corporate status for philosophical reasons; and a fourth
operates under the auspices of a board of directors. The delivery service
is headed up by a Hayward woman who hopes to morph it into a standing
dispensary under the nonprofit umbrella of a local Catholic church.

Door-To-Door Service

Jane Weirick operates Compassion on Wheels (COW) with a donated pager and
cell phone out of her 1984 Saab, which is filled with plastic cows of all
sizes. She was a member of the support team for Peron's operation until it
closed.

She says she gets no salary, supporting herself by cleaning houses and
doing other odd jobs. Her prices, she says, just cover the cost of buying,
packaging and delivering marijuana to a few hundred patients who have
written recommendations from their doctors.

Weirick and her associates are scouting for a location to set up what they
see as an elaborate operation combining the nonprofit dispensary with a
separate organization running an adjacent retail store and Internet cafe
where patients could socialize.

She says she doesn't want marijuana sales to underwrite the other
activities. Some of the criticism of pot clubs is that they can generate
large amounts of tax-free income, the final destination of which is not
always known.

At least one other local dispenser "told me directly he was in this to make
money," which Weirick says disturbs her.

No Documentation Needed

At the ACT UP San Francisco dispensary on Market Street, members of the
collective who work in the cannabis club are paid $15 per hour, what the
group considers a living wage.

Its dark, funky space is guarded by a door monitor who checks memberships.
Only those who have signed a notarized statement under penalty of perjury
that they need marijuana for a medical condition and have discussed it with
their doctor are eligible. They don't verify the statements, or ask for
documentation.

"For us, it's about the patient's right to medicate," said ACT UP member
Michael Bellefountaine.

With more than 1,000 members, the dispensary takes in an estimated $100,000
per month. A sampling of patients visiting on a recent day found one woman
who needed to help ease appetite loss from lupus, and a man who said he
needed it because he suffered from post traumatic stress disorder from
being sexually abused as a child.

Paul Barber Jr. of the Tenderloin was getting marijuana for what he said
were seizures brought on by having been born to a heroin-addicted woman.

"I've been using it medically for 10 years," he said. While he's been
hassled at times by police, he objects to the idea of getting a
state-issued ID card. "It's like Big Brother or something."

Bellefountaine says the vast majority of money goes to pay for marijuana,
rent and salaries. The group holds weekly meetings where patients and
collective members can discuss any aspect of the operation.

A small amount of income helps fund the controversial group's other
activities, which include promoting the idea that HIV is not the cause of
AIDS, and reopening the city's gay bathhouses. The group is not affiliated
with ACT UP Golden Gate.

No Fancy Displays

Farther up Market Street near Castro, James Green calls his second-floor
Market Street Club the "Un" Club -- the Castro District's Discreet
Alternative.

There is no pot on display, no signs with prices, no marijuana-laced baked
goods. Industrial gray carpeting, track lighting and a tall formica counter
with a single stool in front discourages loitering. Off to the side a few
shelves carry hemp-based skin care lotions, aerosol vitamins and body
detoxification products.

Green says he is registered as a business, pays sales tax on his
non-marijuana sales and carries only what he considers "medicinal grade"
marijuana, grown in the United States and highly potent.

He also says he trims off more of the unsmokable parts of the buds, and
sells his product for more than anyone else in town -- as much as $85 for
an eighth of an ounce. Recently he's been offering a promotion -- a
discount on the next purchase for members who bring in a new qualifying
member.

"I run it like a business," he said. Green, who is HIV-positive, credits
medical marijuana with saving his life when he was wasting away with AIDS.

Green requires a letter of diagnosis and medicinal marijuana
recommendation, as well as a fax confirmation from the doctor's office.
With about 300 members, he estimates he grosses about $20,000 per month.

A Libertarian View

The other for-profit business in town is Rich Evans' Patients and
Caregivers Health Center, which opened in October on Mission Street near
16th Street.

With 600 members and growing, Evans sells both foreign-grown and U.S.-grown
pot, cannabis-laced banana bread and even small pot plants that people can
use to grow their own supply. Many customers learned about the club from
$5-off coupons he distributed around the Haight earlier this year.

Evans is a libertarian who doesn't believe in registering his business with
authorities, although he says he has discussed his operation with police
and the district attorney's office.

He says he uses pot himself because he suffers from manic-depressive
disorder. But his involvement with medical marijuana began as an outgrowth
of his activism on behalf of legalizing marijuana in general.

Evans requires members to sign a statement that due to their condition they
face "imminent harm," and cannabis alleviates that harm. They also attest
that no other drug works. No doctor's note or involvement is required, nor
is the statement signed under penalty of perjury.

Customers can buy as much marijuana as they want at a time, but can come in
only once per day.

At least two dozen customers arrived during the first hour of business on a
recent Saturday, one in a wheelchair. One young woman said she used
marijuana for menstrual cramps, and a psychologist who treats heroin
addicts said he had been told about the place by a client who said
marijuana helped keep heroin cravings at bay. The psychologist said he used
it for his own migraines.

A Venerable Club

The most established of the clubs is Cannabis Helping Alleviate Medical
Problems (CHAMP), in a brightly colored building on Church near 14th, which
has been operating since 1996, well before authorities shut Peron's club.

They also have the strictest requirements, including having doctors'
recommendations renewed each year. Not only do they verify letters with
doctors, they say they check with state authorities to make sure the doctor
is licensed to practice.

CHAMP hosts ancillary services, including wellness and support groups, yoga
classes and social activities. Free fruit and vegetables are available
every day, supplemented by soup and bean pies on Wednesdays and a full
dinner on Saturdays.

Although they don't have a formal designation, the club operates as a
nonprofit with a board of directors. Executive Director Kenneth Hayes Jr.
says he does not know how many members are enrolled, and declines to say
how much business the club does per month or what its prices are.

Hayes himself is facing charges in connection with growing medical
marijuana. Last month, county narcotics agents raided his Sonoma County
home, where authorities say he had an elaborate cultivation system, and
have charged him with a felony. He says he hopes the district attorney will
be persuaded to drop the charges.

"It's being grown for sick people," he said.