PATIENTS BATTLE PAIN AT LA CANNABIS RESOURCE CENTER

Highs and Lows Drugs: Patients battle pain with marijuana at L.A. Cannabis
Resource Center. But they fear it will be closed.

Inside the cozy confines of her West Hollywood drug haven, the woman took a
long luxurious toke from the self-rolled marijuana cigarette and held her
breath for dear life.

Almost immediately, the furrowed brow of the 38-year-old AIDS patient seemed
to relax as she closed her eyes and sank back into the leather couch.

Several times a day, she smokes marijuana to offset the painful side effects
of 11 different medications she takes for her condition. "The pot makes the
pain easier to bear," she said dreamily. "Mentally, it makes me feel like,
'OK, fine, I can handle anything.' "

Here, in an airy room atop a Santa Monica Boulevard auto parts store, the
woman purchases her marijuana, usually sitting right down on a couch to roll
and smoke a joint. She's a member of the Los Angeles Cannabis Resource
Center, the last-ditch supply line for 459 Southern Californians facing the
pain and anxiety of a host of incurable diseases.

But that drug supply--supposedly protected by Proposition 215, the 1996
state initiative that allows patients with certain serious illnesses to
possess marijuana for medical use--is in jeopardy.

Earlier this month, a federal judge ordered six Northern California cannabis
clubs to shut down for alleged illegal sales of the drug, siding with
prosecutors who insisted that Proposition 215 did not legalize the clubs or
any other kinds of distribution--merely the medical use of marijuana. In
addition, the Justice Department wants the Cannabis Resource Center and five
more still operating across the state to voluntarily close.

Center President Scott Imler, 40, who smokes pot four times a day to
counteract the pain from his epilepsy, says his staff of seven feels under
siege.

Including the recent closures, Imler said, the government has successfully
shut down 23 of 29 medical marijuana clubs statewide since 1996, including
ones in San Diego, Orange and Ventura counties. So far, Imler's club, which
has earned a reputation among local civic and law enforcement officials as
among the tightest-run ships in the legal marijuana supply business, has
been a tougher nut to crack.

Imler said some clubs deserved to be closed for failing to properly enforce
guidelines set down in Proposition 215, whose language he co-wrote.

Unlike his own center, others fail to make proper security checks on
prospective members and sell to unqualified users.

At the West Hollywood center, doctors' letters of diagnosis with
authorization must be renewed and verified. No excuses. No exceptions. The
licenses of participating physicians are checked and rechecked. In the last
five years, a dozen members have been expelled for breaking club rules,
including resale of the marijuana dispensed there.

"I've seen some suppliers develop this 'pot-preneurial' spirit, where they
think, 'Hey, we can make some money on this. We can make a career change,' "
Imler said. "Some have relaxed the rules. And that has hurt everyone."

Imler said he was never a big pot user until a 1983 skiing accident in which
he cracked his head against a tree, resulting in seizures and migraines that
didn't stop, even with barbiturates, until he started smoking marijuana.
Now, a few tokes several times a day give him mental and physical peace, he
said.

The former special education teacher began working for medical marijuana
laws and in 1992 moved from Santa Cruz to Santa Monica to push the cause and
start a club.

Eventually, his cannabis club was invited by West Hollywood officials to
move to their city. Officials there continue to support Imler. * * *

West Hollywood Mayor Steve Martin has a personal stake in the marijuana
issue: He has seen how marijuana has eased the pain of friends dying of AIDS.

"I have seen it make a huge difference in people's quality of life," he
said. "For many people, this club is a godsend. It's got great community
support, and there's a real commitment in West Hollywood to keep it open."

This March, Martin wrote a letter to President Clinton asking for a
moratorium on enforcement of federal drug laws that interfere with the daily
operation of cannabis clubs like Imler's.

"If the centers are shut down," Martin wrote, "many of these individuals
will be compelled to search back alleys and street corners for their
medicine. This will not only endanger their lives, but place an unnecessary
burden on our police departments."

In response to the federal court ruling that shut down half a dozen clubs,
state Sen. John Vasconcellos (D-Santa Clara), a supporter of medical
marijuana, today will sponsor a summit to study other ways to distribute the
drug legally.

For the patients they supply, legitimate club operators such as Imler are
true medical heroes, a last line of defense against a skeptical government
that distrusts a drug that for everyone else in America is still illegal.

Club statistics show that 70% of members have AIDS, 10% have various cancers
and the rest have maladies ranging from multiple sclerosis to Lou Gehrig's
disease.

Last year, the club dispensed nearly 100 pounds of marijuana, grown either
on the premises or under its supervision, providing a better-quality product
than what is sold on the street.

The government's reaction to their work, the cannabis clubs say, has been a
modern day version of 1930s "Reefer Madness."

In 1996, Imler was forced to temporarily move his shop to a West Hollywood
church after a raid by Los Angeles County sheriff's deputies--one prompted
by a vindictive customer whom Imler said he turned away.

And there continue to be security tests by unscrupulous users looking for an
off-street drug supply line and by undercover agents seeking to infiltrate
his club and eventually close it down.

Last summer, Imler denied membership to a suspected federal undercover agent
when his documents proved to be forged.

More difficult are the times the club has been forced to turn away those
with legitimate need but lacking authorization, such as the AIDS patient who
was denied membership after his documents proved to be bogus.

"Either he was too afraid to go to his doctor for permission or his doctor
turned him down," Imler recalled. "I told him I was sympathetic but that we
had our rules."

Since its start, Imler's cannabis club has had no outdoor signage. There's
no need for anyone to know where it is, other than local doctors and AIDS
organizations--all of whom have the address, he says.

To qualified members, the club dispenses marijuana with the cheerful
precision of an iced mocha at Starbucks.

Although the front doors are kept locked for security reasons, members
choose from a daily menu that on one recent day included such blends as
Orange Patty, McWeed No. 5 and Ethie's Delight, described as "a true
delight. Dark Crystallized buds, lots of red hairs . . . a smooth smoke."

Coming soon, the menu promised: Blends such as Super Haze. And Martha Jane.

As well, there are marijuana-filled brownies, spice cakes, even Rice
Krispies treats, for those bothered by smoke.

The club's marijuana blends sell for $12 to $20 a gram, but Imler said that
those in financial straits are merely asked to make a donation. Last year,
he said, the club gave away nearly 20% of its yield, or 19 pounds of the
drug. * * *

No insurance companies will pay for the marijuana as part of medical
coverage, Imler said.

Even with annual limits per member, the club last year was only able to grow
about 10% of the marijuana it needed, spending $375,000 to purchase from
other covert growers.

At the urging of West Hollywood officials, Imler said, the club is trying to
meet demand for the current year by growing 250 plants in basement
incubators that have the look and smell of their unsupervised cousins.

"The mayor wasn't happy that we were spending so much money on the black
market," Imler said. "I think he's right, we shouldn't be fueling such black
market enterprises where we really have no control over where the profits
eventually land."

Buyers are allowed to smoke their joints in the nearby lounge, as long as
they don't share their marijuana with anyone. On one wall hangs a sign
encouraging such restraint: "Bogart That Joint," it reads, twisting a 1960s
expression.

Along with the fear of government crackdown, Imler says, comes the specter
of the club's location being found out by the public.

That concern turned to laughter recently when a billboard on top of the
club's building was changed to an ad for new hair shampoo containing oil
from hemp seed--also an ingredient in marijuana. The ad included a large
picture of the telltale green hemp weed.

"We were simply blown away by that ad," Imler said. "Two years of
low-profile discretion, blown to smithereens in one afternoon."

Copyright Los Angeles Times

Checked-by: Melodi Cornett