News (Media Awareness Project) - US CA: S.F. Cannabis Club Officially Shut Down, Grand Reopening Today |
Title: | US CA: S.F. Cannabis Club Officially Shut Down, Grand Reopening Today |
Published On: | 1998-04-21 |
Source: | San Francisco Chronicle (CA) |
Fetched On: | 2008-09-07 11:40:21 |
S.F. CANNABIS CLUB OFFICIALLY SHUT DOWN, GRAND REOPENING TODAY
It could have been a scene out of ``Evita'' -- throngs of people standing
on the street, shaking their fists in the air and bellowing: ``PER-ON!
PER-ON!''
But they weren't screaming for Juan Peron, the charismatic Argentine
dictator of the 1940s and '50s. They were screaming for Dennis Peron, the
elfin, white-haired, pot-huffing director of the San Francisco Cannabis
Cultivator's Club -- which until its closing yesterday was the biggest
medical marijuana outlet in the country.
The shuttering of the Market Street club was the result of an order issued
last week by San Francisco Superior Court Judge David Garcia at the request
of California Attorney General Dan Lungren. Bad blood has existed between
Peron -- who authored Proposition 215, the 1996 medical marijuana
initiative -- and Lungren ever since state agents busted Peron's club three
months before the initiative passed.
Peron tried to reassure his acolytes that yesterday's development was all
for the best.
``It's been an honor to lead you, (and) this is a sad moment for me, but
I'm now opening another chapter of my life,'' he said as he stood outside
the club, holding one of his favorite potted marijuana plants. He had to
raise his voice to make himself heard over the cheers and an impromptu dog
fight that had erupted among some of his admirers' pets.
Peron announced that a new club, called the Cannabis Healing Center, will
open today at the site of the old club. It will be directed by 78-year-old
medical marijuana advocate Hazel Rodgers, but it may face legal challenges,
too.
Rodgers received roars of adoration yesterday when she appeared at a
second-story window of the club. She seemed comfortable in her new role.
``At my age, it doesn't matter what I say,'' said Rodgers. ``One thing I
hope to do is to put a new brand of marijuana on the market called `Holy
Smoke.' ''
Peron said yesterday that he will have nothing to do with the management of
the new enterprise and will devote himself instead to running for governor
against Lungren in the upcoming Republican primary.
Dressed in civilian clothes and looking somewhat harried, San Francisco
County Sheriff Michael Hennessey served Peron at around 1:30 p.m. with the
court order to close the club.
Hennessey, a supporter of Proposition 215, said he backed medical marijuana
clubs because he knew sick people who appeared to derive therapeutic
benefit from the plant.
``I believe it is helpful to have well-run clubs,'' Hennessey said, adding
that he also approved of Garcia's ruling because it helped clubs conform to
the tenets of Proposition 215.
Hennessey said he didn't know whether the new club would be legal under
Garcia's order.
``I only follow the orders of the court,'' Hennessey said. ``(Garcia)
ordered (Peron's) club closed on a minor point -- that he was selling to
primary caregivers, as well as patients.''
Because Rodgers' club will only sell to patients, Hennessey said, ``it
could quite possibly meet the letter of the law and the judge's ruling.''
San Francisco District Attorney Terence Hallinan agreed that the future of
the new club is uncertain.
``I hope they can work this out, because I'd like to see those patients
supplied with marijuana in a safe place rather than Dolores Park,''
Hallinan said. ``But it's a civil case rather than a criminal case, so it
can't be decided definitively by a jury. . . . So it can go on a long
time.''
Prior to Hennessey's arrival, Peron roamed the rooms of the cavernous
building that housed his club. His mood appeared both nostalgic and
melancholy. As staff members packed the last pounds of marijuana buds into
a big duffel bag, Peron inspected the basement rooms where hundreds of pot
plants once grew under lights. All that was left were a pile of spindly,
culled plants and a box full of ``shake'' -- low-quality leaves.
``We'll leave this for the deputies to confiscate,'' he said. ``We just
didn't have time to pack it all up.''
Upstairs, some of the club's 9,000 members participated in one last
smoke-a-thon. The atmosphere was festive, bordering on rowdy. But some
members said such uninhibited partying ultimately worked against the
medical marijuana cause.
``It's true that the clubs serve as a social center for the poorer or
socially marginalized members,'' said a man named Matthew, who smokes pot
to ward off the nausea caused by the protease inhibitors he takes to fight
HIV.
``But that's all people see in the media -- dope-smoking hippies,'' he
said. ``At least half of the people who come here to buy marijuana are
suit-wearing professionals like me. What isn't acknowledged is the fact
that medicinal marijuana increases the productivity and tax base for this
city because it lets a lot of people feel well enough to work.''
)1998 San Francisco Chronicle
It could have been a scene out of ``Evita'' -- throngs of people standing
on the street, shaking their fists in the air and bellowing: ``PER-ON!
PER-ON!''
But they weren't screaming for Juan Peron, the charismatic Argentine
dictator of the 1940s and '50s. They were screaming for Dennis Peron, the
elfin, white-haired, pot-huffing director of the San Francisco Cannabis
Cultivator's Club -- which until its closing yesterday was the biggest
medical marijuana outlet in the country.
The shuttering of the Market Street club was the result of an order issued
last week by San Francisco Superior Court Judge David Garcia at the request
of California Attorney General Dan Lungren. Bad blood has existed between
Peron -- who authored Proposition 215, the 1996 medical marijuana
initiative -- and Lungren ever since state agents busted Peron's club three
months before the initiative passed.
Peron tried to reassure his acolytes that yesterday's development was all
for the best.
``It's been an honor to lead you, (and) this is a sad moment for me, but
I'm now opening another chapter of my life,'' he said as he stood outside
the club, holding one of his favorite potted marijuana plants. He had to
raise his voice to make himself heard over the cheers and an impromptu dog
fight that had erupted among some of his admirers' pets.
Peron announced that a new club, called the Cannabis Healing Center, will
open today at the site of the old club. It will be directed by 78-year-old
medical marijuana advocate Hazel Rodgers, but it may face legal challenges,
too.
Rodgers received roars of adoration yesterday when she appeared at a
second-story window of the club. She seemed comfortable in her new role.
``At my age, it doesn't matter what I say,'' said Rodgers. ``One thing I
hope to do is to put a new brand of marijuana on the market called `Holy
Smoke.' ''
Peron said yesterday that he will have nothing to do with the management of
the new enterprise and will devote himself instead to running for governor
against Lungren in the upcoming Republican primary.
Dressed in civilian clothes and looking somewhat harried, San Francisco
County Sheriff Michael Hennessey served Peron at around 1:30 p.m. with the
court order to close the club.
Hennessey, a supporter of Proposition 215, said he backed medical marijuana
clubs because he knew sick people who appeared to derive therapeutic
benefit from the plant.
``I believe it is helpful to have well-run clubs,'' Hennessey said, adding
that he also approved of Garcia's ruling because it helped clubs conform to
the tenets of Proposition 215.
Hennessey said he didn't know whether the new club would be legal under
Garcia's order.
``I only follow the orders of the court,'' Hennessey said. ``(Garcia)
ordered (Peron's) club closed on a minor point -- that he was selling to
primary caregivers, as well as patients.''
Because Rodgers' club will only sell to patients, Hennessey said, ``it
could quite possibly meet the letter of the law and the judge's ruling.''
San Francisco District Attorney Terence Hallinan agreed that the future of
the new club is uncertain.
``I hope they can work this out, because I'd like to see those patients
supplied with marijuana in a safe place rather than Dolores Park,''
Hallinan said. ``But it's a civil case rather than a criminal case, so it
can't be decided definitively by a jury. . . . So it can go on a long
time.''
Prior to Hennessey's arrival, Peron roamed the rooms of the cavernous
building that housed his club. His mood appeared both nostalgic and
melancholy. As staff members packed the last pounds of marijuana buds into
a big duffel bag, Peron inspected the basement rooms where hundreds of pot
plants once grew under lights. All that was left were a pile of spindly,
culled plants and a box full of ``shake'' -- low-quality leaves.
``We'll leave this for the deputies to confiscate,'' he said. ``We just
didn't have time to pack it all up.''
Upstairs, some of the club's 9,000 members participated in one last
smoke-a-thon. The atmosphere was festive, bordering on rowdy. But some
members said such uninhibited partying ultimately worked against the
medical marijuana cause.
``It's true that the clubs serve as a social center for the poorer or
socially marginalized members,'' said a man named Matthew, who smokes pot
to ward off the nausea caused by the protease inhibitors he takes to fight
HIV.
``But that's all people see in the media -- dope-smoking hippies,'' he
said. ``At least half of the people who come here to buy marijuana are
suit-wearing professionals like me. What isn't acknowledged is the fact
that medicinal marijuana increases the productivity and tax base for this
city because it lets a lot of people feel well enough to work.''
)1998 San Francisco Chronicle
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