REEFER GLADNESS

No one laughed when Central Coast Compassionate Caregivers opened on
April Fool's Day. But of course, it wasn't a joke. People are serious
about their right to use medical marijuana, and with the opening of
SLO County's first and only city-sanctioned cannabis dispensary,
Morro Bay City Officials have unequivocally stated that they're not
playing around. Yes, this is the same dispensary that was run out of
Atascadero in February, shortly after owner Charles C. Lynch opened
up shop there. This time, though, CCCC is being welcomed with
(mostly) open arms. Is this a medical triumph or a terrible mistake?
Some people may already have their minds made up about this, but it
looks like the rest of us will just have to wait and see.

Lynch, for one, seems elated, if a little exhausted. But then, it's
been only six days since CCCC reopened and he might still be getting
used to the idea of actually being in business again. He wasn't open
a month the first time before a judge ordered him to shut down until
further notice. Even though Atascadero's moratorium banning
dispensaries had already expired, it came to city officials'
attention that the business license they issued Lynch was for a
"health service provider," which didn't exactly apply to medical
marijuana. They needed time to figure out what, exactly, they were
supposed to do with him. But closing down meant Lynch had to cut his
patients off ­ more than 300 in just the first three weeks of
business ­ from the county's only public supply of medical cannabis.
So rather than wait for Atascadero to make up its mind, he packed up
his goods and moved west to Morro Bay, where there was another
expired moratorium and a willingness by government officials to give
pot a chance. Lynch, a polite, soft- spoken man with thinning red
hair and a lilt to his voice that hints at his southwestern roots,
doesn't care to discuss what happened in Atascadero, saying simply
that he's trying to put the past behind him. Then he proudly shows
off his new business license, hanging high in the small foyer of his
Monterey Street store. "This is the first one in the county that says
'medical marijuana dispensary,'" he says, smiling in disbelief.

Some Morro Bay residents were shocked to first find about CCCC's move
in the local news, saying the city never warned them about an
impending dispensary. In response to these complaints, Mayor Janice
Peters suggests people should start paying more attention to what
goes on at City Council meetings. She says that before Lynch ever
arrived, she and the other city planners had started laying down the
groundwork for allowing medical marijuana within city limits. "About
four or five months ago, our moratorium expired and by then we had
pretty much decided that legitimate use in the city was reasonable,"
she explains. Then CCCC was shut down in Atascadero. "We knew we'd be
the next target." Sure enough, Lynch came to the city with a request
to open up in Morro Bay. Peters admits that she'd hoped to have more
time to establish clearer parameters, primarily to control the future
growth of dispensaries. But she also believes that she and her
council members, many whom have known people who benefited from
medical cannabis, made the right decision. "We wanted to give it a
chance," she says, " I only hope our community gives it that same chance."

The community, to be sure, is torn over the issue. While the general
consensus seems to be that medical marijuana should be made available
to the people who need it, there is some concern that a storefront
dispensary might be going a bit too far. Worries range from an
increase in traffic to the area, to heightened criminal activity and,
because Morro Bay has yet to establish any limits on dispensaries,
the possibility that pot clubs will soon be popping up all over town.
Though an uncontrollable explosion of dispensaries is highly unlikely
(City Attorney Rob Schultz says the zoning restrictions alone make it
extremely difficult to open such a business), problems related to
dispensaries in parts of the Bay Area and San Diego suggest that
these fears aren't completely unfounded.

Lynch appears to be making every effort to ensure that his dispensary
doesn't cause any problems, and neighbors so far seem to have only
praise for his outgoing thoughtfulness and courtesy. He even
installed special fans and an air purification system when the folks
downstairs at Fidelity National Trust complained of the constant
smell of marijuana wafting into their office. Even so, Fidelity's
Assistant Vice President Liz Childres is having a hard time accepting
that there's a pot dispensary right next door. Though she considers
herself an advocate for medical marijuana ­ "I voted for Prop. 215,"
she says, ­ she's concerned about the negative impact a publicly
recognized dispensary might have on the city's image. She would hate
to see that affect tourism, an industry she relies on in her line of
work. There's also issue of illegal activities taking place in the
area, which is why she has arranged to have a security system
installed in her office ­ even though Lynch has one of his own,
complete with surveillance cameras and motion-sensitive alarms.

Childres also worries about drug abuse. She estimates that about half
of the "patients" she's seen walk into CCCC seem to be in fine health
and don't appear to be in any real need of marijuana. "The older
people look sick," she insists; they use canes and walkers. "The
young people ride up on their skateboards. They look perfectly
healthy." But the truth is, doctors recommend marijuana to treat a
variety of ailments, not all of them obvious to the casual observer.
These include, but aren't limited to: glaucoma, asthma, epilepsy,
depression, nausea, chronic pain, and even drug addiction. And in
accordance with the law, Lynch requires all of his patients to
present a doctor's recommendation before they can enter the
dispensary (because marijuana is a federally banned substance, it
can't technically be prescribed), which is then verified by a
receptionist before they can ever get close to the marijuana. Still,
Childres thinks there's got to be a more reasonable way to deal with
this. "I don't know why they can't all just take Marinol," she says,
referring to the FDA-approved marijuana alternative. "The pharmacies
should be handling this, anyway."

But marijuana dispensaries have also proved to be responsible, if
unorthodox, businesses in other communities. At the Compassionate
Center of Santa Barbara, a dispensary that opened in 1999, owner
Patrick Fourmy says that he has never had any problems with the
authorities. Furthermore, he thinks it's ridiculous to worry that a
cannabis dispensary will cause mayhem. On the contrary, he claims,
properly run dispensaries can actually reduce criminal activity by
providing patients with a respectable and legal place to get their
doctor-approved medicine. The key, however, is for dispensary owners,
their patients, local physicians, and especially the authorities to
work together willingly and, sometimes, creatively. Local law
enforcement seems to be prepared to give it a try, even though their
duties place them directly at odds with the dispensary's practices.
Morro Bay Police Chief John De Rohan is taking his lead from other
cities' agencies that are currently dealing with the medical
marijuana issue. The stance seems to be, if there aren't any
problems, then there's no reason to get involved. Still, he says,
what he'd really like is for something concrete to help him "figure
out this la-la lawlessness."

On the wall next to his business license, Lynch, as required, has
posted the list of conditions he agreed to when the city granted him
the license. No one employed by the dispensary may be a convicted
felon. No one under 18 is allowed without a guardian. No consumption
of cannabis on the premises. There are more conditions, and Lynch has
even added a few of his own. Patients may not enter wearing hats or
sunglasses, they may not consume cannabis within 100 feet of the
dispensary, and they may not loiter outside the building. Signs
everywhere remind patients to be considerate of the neighbors by
stepping lightly and turning off their cell phones. A security guard
greets visitors at the door and they must present their doctor's
recommendation and a California State ID in order to be lead upstairs
by yet another security guard, who takes them to the reception area.
It's there, in the sun lit room with large window that provide a peak
at Morro Rock and the Bay, that patients undergo clearance and
receive their CCCC photo ID card, the front of which bears the Seal
of California adorned with cannabis leaves.
Of course, there are those people who think "medical marijuana" is
just a euphemism for legalized pot, but patients who benefit from
cannabis say they're no interested in legalizing the drug for
recreational use. In fact, because pot is so potent, Lynch says he's
more comfortable keeping marijuana under the "medical umbrella." He
just wants to provide his patients safe and easy access to a
something that gives them relief from their pain and discomfort, the
same respect they would get if they were using conventional
pharmaceuticals to treat their ailments.

Pat, who asked that only his first name be used for this story, lives
in Paso Robles. He started using cannabis about five years ago to
treat his chronic back pain, seizures and anxiety. Prior to that, he
says, he'd spent years trying "a truckload of pain pills. I took
Vicodan, Norco, Somas, just about every pill there was. But after a
while, they'd stop working and so I had to take more and more.
Suddenly I was still in pain, and I was also addicted to pain
killers." When a doctor suggested he try cannabis, Pat says he was
desperate, and to his relief it worked. Hardly a miracle drug, he
says marijuana doesn't take away all of his pain and he knows nothing
can. But it makes his discomfort manageable, which is more than any
of those pills did for him. Until CCCC opened, Pat, who isn't able to
drive, had to get family members and friends to drive him as far as
Oakland and Bakersfield to get his pot at medical dispensaries. The
costly drive was so painful for him sometimes that on more than one
occasion he had to hit the streets to score his medication. He had no
way of knowing the quality of his purchase and worse yet, a lack of
local, legal access to pot had forced him to break the law. "I want
to stay above board with this," he says. "Having a dispensary in the
area allows me to do that."

For those who might require a little more proof of healing powers of
pot, consider this: The American Medical Association officially
recognized the Fourth National Clinical Conference on Medical
Marijuana, hosted by Santa Barbara City college earlier this month.
At this fully accredited event, doctors, nurses, researchers,
clinicians, patients, and advocates from all over the world to
gathered to discuss the established, debunked, and possible benefits
of using marijuana as a medicine. Healthcare professionals even
received official credits for attending the conference, just as they
would have if they'd attended a conference on heart disease.

"Area 420" lies just beyond a tropical beaded curtain, and it's in
there that one faces the reality of medical cannabis as a serious
player in SLO County. Green, sticky buds fill a huge glass display
case, shelves filled with more than a dozen varieties, all with
playful names like "Purple Power," "Lemon Drop," and "First Lady."
It's easy to understand what the neighbors were talking about; the
thick, musty smell of marijuana fills the air in the windowless room,
giving the placebo effect of a contact high. A dry erase board notes
the day's specials. All funniness aside, this is not a joke, and
Brandon, a patient who also works at the dispensary, explains that
each variety, grown from cloned plants, provides a distinctively
different medicinal effect. Patients are encouraged to sniff small
sample jars to get an idea of what they're choosing, and several
reference books are available to answer any questions. Of course, he
says, he's happy to offer advice, but there is usually a period of
trial and error before patients find exactly what they're looking
for. Their selection made, patients walk out of the dispensary with
their purchase in hand along with a list of health and safety
guidelines for marijuana usage. It certainly gives new meaning to the
word drugstore.

Things are running smoothly right now for CCCC, but Lynch still has
to prepare for a possible struggle with the feds, should they come
knocking on his dispensary's door. With all social taboos he's had to
break, and the many legal entanglements he continues to face, one has
to ask the question: Why? After 15 years as a law-abiding member of
the community and with a perfectly respectable job as a software
designer ­ why would he want to stir up the community by opening a
marijuana dispensary? Lynch, who uses marijuana to treat his migraine
headaches, says he finally got tired of driving to other counties to
get his medication. His voice cracks a little as he describes the
first time he purchased cannabis in a recognized dispensary. It was a
relief, and as a patient who genuinely benefits from this drug, it
was validating. He's doing this to give the people of SLO the same
legitimate claim to their rights. "I'm not a criminal," he says in a
final effort to explain his position. "The law says this is allowed."

Battle Of The Bud

"It was like trying to open a marijuana dispensary in Marlboro
Country," Lou Koory, Charles C. Lynch's San Luis Obispo-based
attorney, quipped of CCCC's former home in conservative Atascadero.
"This is just a much better location in every sense. It just feels right here."

In simple geographic terms, the move to Morro Bay appears a brief
haul-little more than 17 miles of pleasant, winding mountain road
separate the two Central Coast towns. Yet, in an ideological scope,
the dispensary cut a swath across San Luis Obispo County,
illuminating a stark contrast in the moral and rhetorical climates
surrounding the rediscovered reality of medicinal legalization. But
more than that, what Lynch and his coalition of medical marijuana
users discovered in this transition was a logistical paradox of
legislation: Crisscrossing and frequently contradicting state and
federal laws making the true legality of Nurse Mary Jane more a
matter of opinion than the letter of the law.

Of course, Washington's position on how to approach a medical
marijuana dispensary from an enforcement angle is clear­"bring 'em
down." However, in Sacramento, a statement released last year by
California Attorney General Bill Lockyer coaxed-in a not-so-direct
directive-police to enforce the state law. Striking a balance in
areas where medical marijuana storefronts prove more common, like in
neighboring Santa Barbara County, law enforcement tends to take its
cues almost primarily from the local government. But this practice
offers little clarity as the political microclimates surrounding the
issue continue to spur drastically different legal standards, even
within individual counties. The result is a general sense of
confusion, particularly among departments freshly exposed to this new
breed of establishment, with the metaphorical buck stopping somewhere
between local DEA office and Never-Never Land.

"There's no clear direction for law enforcement to handle this,"
Morro Bay Chief of Police John de Rohan said. "Hopefully somebody
will make a decision. Until then, it's a big, conflicting mess."

More than one legal expert approached by the New Times stated the
flexibility of State Senate Bill 420 ­ an update to Prop 215 designed
specifically to protect dispensaries ­ tends to promote a trend of
creative management. With their options wide open, some cities adopt
and perpetually renew temporary moratoriums (San Luis Obispo, Grover
Beach); others dig up justification for outright bans (Pismo Beach);
and still others draft what dispensary owners call de facto bans ­
ordinances reportedly so restrictive they make it impossible for
co-ops to operate. Koory and Lynch believe this to be the case in
Atascadero, where the city council approved a measure last Tuesday
putting strict limitations on any primary caregiver looking to take
center stage as the town's one and only marijuana dispensary.

According to the ordinance, an applicant must establish the
storefront at least 1,000 feet away from any school, church or park ­
a restriction more austere than any Central Coast city places on
convicted sex offenders, save Paso Robles. But before reaching that
stage, the prospective caregiver must first file with Atascadero
Police Chief John Couch, who sets the terms for background
investigation and can strike down the application at his discretion.
Surprisingly, no applicants have yet come forward.

All of this begs the question: Where lies the source of all this
legislative crossfire? It appears a return to Battleground 10th
Amendment, yet again.

All though semi-officially, not-really-but-kind-of legal in this
state and ten others, to the federal government, Marijuana still
falls into the bin of Schedule I narcotics ­ those believed to elicit
a high potential for abuse and possessing no medically ­ founded
pharmaceutical value. In a landmark Supreme Court decision last June,
justices sided with federal law enforcement agencies, upholding the
constitutionality of raids and investigations conducted in the name
of the 1970 Controlled Substances Act. The primary petitioner was
Angel Raich, a 38-year-old medical marijuana patient in Oakland with
a laundry list of health conditions. The court decided that, even
though medical marijuana did not constitute an interstate trade, it
still affected interstate commerce and deserved adequate federal
attention. Needless to say, the indirect nature of the ruling churned
up quite a bit of controversy.

"Americans like to put things in terms of war. They call it a war on
drugs, but really it's a war on patients, a war on people and a war
on California," Koory said of the decision. "The federal government
doesn't like its authority questioned."

In the wake of Raich vs. Ashcroft, opponents of medicinal
legalization declared the end of the pharmaceutical pot debate ­
obviously, a false prognostication ­ and also dubbed the decision the
ultimate justification for federal law enforcement to ignore state
law. By and large, raids conducted by the DEA or local police in
California tend to take place in urban areas and involve reports of
widespread abuse. Officials with the California Narcotic Officers'
Association (CNOA) said, in many areas of the state, local task
forces are so consumed up in battling non-medical marijuana growing
facilities that the ones allowed under 215 are largely ignored.
Still, the thought of federal officers crashing through glass
ceilings on zip cords remains plastered to the consciousness of
dispensary owners.

"It's a definite concern," said Jim McGowen, operator of
Bakersfield's American Caregivers Association. "We make it a point to
operate under certain guidelines but there's always the threat of
federal harassment on the basis of federal laws."

The largest raid to occur in California took place Dec. 12, 2005 when
DEA officers fanned across San Diego in a move against 13 area
dispensaries. Because the investigation is still ongoing, DEA San
Diego spokesman Dan Simmons would not comment on pending charges but
called the action a 'collection of evidence' and cited the Controlled
Substances Act as justification. Though supplies of medical marijuana
were taken as evidence, the only arrests made in the raid stemmed
from active warrants and other offenses. According to Simmons, one
man was taken in after arriving at the dispensary with a satchel of
marijuana and a handgun -­ one of the two items violated local laws.

Unlike Morro Bay, San Diego city and county governments deferred
regulation of marijuana dispensaries in protest of the SB-420 ­ a
point made clear in a suit brought recently by the county executives
against the state. Thriving in this Petri dish of deregulation,
dealerships continually opened up under the guise of medical
dispensaries and sometimes, asserts CNOA Executive Director Bob
Hussey, "changed the whole demographic of the area." In addition to
angering many neighborhoods where the unbridled pot shops operate,
these installations drew the ire of southern Californian dispensaries
striving to operate on the straight and narrow.
"They're doing a great disservice to what we're trying to
accomplish," vented Virgil Grant, owner of Holistic Caregivers of
Compton. "You have these idiots who jump in for the wrong reason and
it hurts the people who need this treatment as an alternative to
synthetic drugs."

Yet, many local narcotics officers retain certain concerns even if
dispensaries follow preset guidelines. Lt. Paul McCaffrey of the
Santa Barbara Police Department ­ who described himself as neutral in
the medical marijuana debate-lamented on the scarcity of record
keeping at many dispensaries. "If someone broke into a pharmacy and
stole Oxycontin, the pharmacist would have an obligation to the
community to report it-he's in a position of moral trust," McCaffrey
theorized. "Would you expect a marijuana dispensary to do the same?"

"Why would they?" Morro Bay City Attorney Rob Schultz rhetorically
responded. Koory answered the claim by pointing out that SB-420 sets
no requirements for record keeping and believes extensive paperwork
could open the door to federal harassment of patients.

Whatever the case, Morro Bay city officials plan to take the matter
in stride until results from San Luis Obispo County's first medical
marijuana field test begin to trickle in. Meanwhile, the possibility
of federal intervention quietly looms like storm clouds over the
Pacific, a point of increasing worry to Lynch as his efforts garner
greater regional attention. For now, the mild-mannered dispensary
owner and his outspoken attorney continue to communicate with the
local government; happy enough this batch of legal potpourri smells
sweeter than the last.

Regardless, in the event fears of federal investigation actually turn
to reality in Morro Bay, Schultz outlined the town's possible
recourse in one word.

"Nothing."

Mari-What?

In addition to Congress, another government body possesses the
authority to reschedule marijuana as a narcotic. If the Food and Drug
Administration determined cannabis to offer any medicinal value, by
definition, pot could no longer constitute a Schedule I substance.
For 15 years after the Controlled Substances Act passed into law,
scientists launched a barrage of studies looking to establish the
efficacy of pot.

In 1985, the FDA approved a THC synthetic, under the trade name
Marinol, designed primarily to relieve nausea symptoms resulting from
chemotherapy and trigger appetite in AIDS patients. Although similar
in their applications, dried marijuana contains a total of 66
cannaboids, while Marinol just isolates the effect of one-TCH.
Proponents of medical marijuana call the pharmaceutical offering a
meager substitute, claiming nausea patients simply regurgitate the
pill in the 30-60 minutes it takes to dissolve.

Other objections surrounding Marinol include its lofty price, alleged
ineffectiveness in some treatments where studies show marijuana
proved effective and, of course, reported side effects. According to
Dr. David Bearman, a Santa Barbara practitioner who both prescribes
Marinol and issues recommendations for marijuana on a regular basis,
patients taking the synthetic pill often complain of severe dysphoria
(or, mental discomfort). It's an unfortunate effect of what
recreational users might call 'too much of a good thing'­the narcotic
element of marijuana running amuck when removed from its natural
setting. Recent studies indicate a naturally occurring
non-psychoactive chemical in marijuana called cannabidol (CDB) helps
take this edge off.

"Marijuana contains 483 chemicals and THC is the most
pharmacologically active," Bearman said. "The CDB actually helps
mitigate the excessive euphoria caused by THC."

Arguments in support of Marinol hail it as a safer alternative to
gambling on the unknown dangers of long-term marijuana use. The FDA
maintains that no whole plant could ever be considered a
pharmaceutical product since it's far too difficult to isolate and
catalogue the effects of every single chemical ingredient. And, even
though a recent study by UCLA's Dr. Donald Tashkin helped dispel the
myth that smoked marijuana has a carcinogenic effect, the threat of
respiratory infection remains. In response to criticisms of Marinol's
sluggish response time, development of an aerosol delivery system is
in the works.