ARCATA POLICE CHIEF FINDS 'LOCAL SOLUTION' TO POT LAW

ARCATA -- In the chill of a spring afternoon, Charles McDowell gripped the
bowl of a pipe with fingers gnarled with cherry-sized knots from arthritis.

He raised the pipe to his lips, closed his eyes and dragged mightily on the
orange glow as if his life depended on it. Some days, it feels like it does.

"Yeah, see," said McDowell, spreading his fingers as wisps of smoke curled
from his nostrils. "I take steroids and all, but nothing helps like this."

Marijuana takes the edge off the pain racking his hands so he can get on
with his life, McDowell swears -- and his doctor agrees.

Luckily for him, he lives in this seaside college town, a sort of ground
zero for the legal thorn bush of Proposition 215, the voter initiative that
legalized marijuana for medical use.

And luckily for him, Mel Brown is here.

"Mel Brown is the bravest police chief in America," McDowell said with a
throaty cough as he exhaled.

Around his neck, a laminated card glinted in the hazy sunlight, a card that
lets McDowell, 44, relax in a city park and fire up as officers stroll past.

The police chief gave him the card, even snapped the Polaroid for it.

A no-nonsense, straight-by-the-book kind of guy in sport coat and starchy
white shirt, Brown commands a small-town police force with a big-city
vision.

"I kind of pride myself on taking risks," he said, parking his linebacker
hulkiness behind his desk.

In the palm of a beefy hand, he holds his latest risk: a picture
identification card, saying the holder has a medical condition relieved by
marijuana.

"We're just trying to find local solutions to local problems," Brown said,
offering a simple explanation for a notion that could reverberate statewide.

Card-holders present them to police officers if caught with small amounts of
marijuana, less than a half-ounce or no more than 10 plants. The card-holder
avoids arrest and a trip to court to prove his or her medical condition. The
city of Arcata saves the officer four hours of court duty.

And for people like McDowell, their personal supply doesn't get confiscated
and destroyed.

McDowell is happy. Brown is satisfied. It's an unlikely alliance.

Largely regarded as a legal land mine, Proposition 215 raised more questions
than it answered after voters passed it in 1997: How much pot is reasonable
for medical use? And what kinds of illnesses will it help? And the biggest
quandary is how do medical users escape federal arrest since federal law
doesn't permit medical use?

A state task force drew together marijuana experts, medical and law
enforcement representatives, including Brown, to ponder those issues, and is
planning to propose a legal strategy within a month. New state laws might be
necessary, though, or even another consideration by voters.

Some kind of registration is one of the ideas being considered, said Terry
Farmer, Humboldt County's district attorney, who also sits on the task
force.

Representatives of the state Department of Justice called Arcata's approach
innovative, but held off on endorsing any ideas until the task force is
finished.

A city like Arcata can't wait for the lengthy decision-making process on

something like this, city leaders realized last year.

Like it or not, they know Humboldt County, along with neighboring Trinity
and Mendocino counties, form the Emerald Triangle, named for the illicit,
commercial marijuana growing in remote, lush regions.

That reputation, along with a tradition of liberal sensibilities, primed
Arcata for an immigration wave of Proposition 215 refugees, Brown said.

He wanted to be ready.

"We either had to try to partner with them to control it, or fight it," he
said of medical marijuana users in town who have organized into a resource
center.

"It started kind of tenuous at first. They didn't trust us and we didn't
trust them," Brown said.

Few places in the state are better incubators for innovative ideas, unusual
collaborations.

Anchored by Humboldt State University, the town overlooking Humboldt Bay

scatters along hillsides dotted with sky-scratching redwood trees. Grandly
preserved Victorians rise next to distinctive bungalows.

The town center, fanning from a park square, looks like a slice of Berkeley
lifted and placed among uncluttered, scenic views. Shoppers can browse at
Moonrise Herbs or pick up a $55 flowered shower curtain at Plaza Design,
flip through menus and find tofu this or that, or pick a movie at two
old-style downtown theaters running full tilt.

Festivals for every kind of celebration imaginable seem drawn to Chief
Brown's town, which is also the environmental battleground for controversial
timber practices.

He's arrested hordes of protesters, marshalled plenty of unruly
revelers-vs.-citizens conflicts, including a parade of topless women.

So the man who briefly distinguished himself by hauling in the largest
albacore tuna from Humboldt Bay is unruffled by shifting gears on marijuana.

"I don't agree with a lot of things, but I have to enforce it," he said of
Proposition 215.

After a trial run, Brown began issuing the cards last year. Residents bring
in forms with medical recommendations from a doctor. After Brown confirms
everything with the doctor, and he checks the physician's background, he
issues a card with an expiration date.

It's a hit.

"I was truly astonished," said Debra Parry, who discovered new freedom when
she moved to Arcata last year. She used pot for years to ease her ailments,
but ran into the law in Arkansas where she lived before.

She sat on a picnic blanket next to McDowell, her shoulders hunched over,
making her seem older than her 46 years. A cane laid next to her legs, their
outline lost in jeans that bagged around her limbs. For years arthritis has
robbed her of free movement, and a bone marrow disease makes too much iron
for her body. Her organs are rusting.

"I would vomit for hours," she said.

She took the pipe from McDowell and gingerly inhaled, closing her eyes.
Several times a day, a pinch or two relieves the nausea and piques her
appetite.

"It relaxes my stomach immediately," she said, munching on a lone broccoli
spear.

A member of the local marijuana center, a resource group that works with
Brown and helps people like Parry, she joined other members to picnic in a
clearing of the city's huge Redwood Park. The nearness of police officers
still gives her pause.

"It just makes me edgy," she said, eyeing two officers patrolling the park.

In spite of Brown's best efforts, her fear is not unfounded. She is breaking
federal law, card or no card.

And that remains a fact, said Brian Steel, spokesman for the U.S. Department
of Justice.

Recent interest in national health studies about medical marijuana and more
states joining California's lead could eventually sway Congress differently,
he conceded, and federal authorities have yet to arrest anyone like Parry or
McDowell.

But they could.

Proposition 215 is no get-out-of-jail-free card in Arcata, either, Brown
said.

Except for the 100 or so card-holders in town, who abide by the rules
otherwise, Brown is still in the busting business: "Marijuana is still
against the law in Arcata."