IS THIS MAN A MARTYR OR A VILLAIN?

Sointula Senior's Hunger Strike to Oppose Marijuana Laws Divides
Community Where He Sold Drugs

Death is marching inexorably toward Istvan Marton, but unlike others
suffering from a terminal illness, he could choose to halt that march.

Instead, he has put aside $10,000 for a party with lots of booze and
pot to celebrate his martyrdom, and is adamant he will not end his
hunger strike until Canada changes its marijuana laws.

Marton, 69, is known to residents of Sointula, a small Malcolm Island
fishing village off the northeast coast of Vancouver Island, as
Steve, the local fair-deal marijuana dealer.

"He's been supplying most of the community here with medical and
recreational marijuana," said his friend and former customer Des Mcmurchy.

"He's a respected member of the community and provides a public
service to many of us who need to use marijuana," said Mcmurchy, who
uses pot to ease his arthritis.

Heidi Soltau, Sointula's representative on Mount Waddington Regional
District, has a different perspective.

"This is not a beloved character in town. We all know who he is
because he's the local drug dealer," she said.

"He's on a hunger strike because he doesn't want to go to jail. Is
that a good cause?"

Most people in Sointula do not support Marton, Soltau said.

"Some of the alternate-lifestyle people are definitely concerned, but
we don't usually extol our drug dealers."

Marton, who faces a charge of possession of a controlled substance
and breaching a conditional sentence from a previous conviction for
the same offence, has been on a hunger strike for more than a month.

He is drinking nothing but juice, water and clear soup. His weight
has dropped from 79 kilograms to 55 kg.

"I was a bit chubby before," Marton said this week, estimating he
will die in about three weeks.

But that could be an optimistic estimate as he was taken to Port
Mcneill Hospital Tuesday after a major heart attack and on Friday was
in serious condition.

Problems with Marton's unofficial retail business started last
January when Port Mcneill RCMP arrived in Sointula, arrested Marton,
and scooped his cash and stash of about 2.2 kg of marijuana.

The arrest was traumatic for Marton, a former Hungarian with a
distrust of uniformed authority dating back to the Soviet invasion of
Hungary, followed by refugee camps.

"I am almost 70 years old. I am supposed to be handled more
carefully," said Marton, who collapsed on the dock as police prepared
to take him to Port Mcneill.

"It was a terrible ordeal for him," said Mcmurchy.

"They just laughed at him as he was lying there." Marton, who, 20
years ago, spent time in jail for possession of marijuana, was given
a six-month suspended sentence and headed back to Sointula, where he
resumed business.

"I never hid it. I was the illegal supplier of marijuana for the
island and I was really proud of it," said Marton, who insists that
he did not sell to young people or touch hard drugs.

His role was more like a broker, collecting weed from local growers
and distributing it to about 70 members of "the club," said a friend.

"He's not a scuzzy sort of person. Most of these are middle-aged and
older people that like their pot."

Marton said he always donated "dope money" to needy families.

"I never made big money out of it. I had a nice little car and I live
in a rented house," he said.

RCMP viewed it differently and were not amused when they returned in
October to find business booming. They again arrested Marton and,
again, he collapsed.

Port Mcneill RCMP detachment commander Sgt. Phil Lue said medical
help was called both times.

"They said there was nothing wrong with him," he said.

There was no effort to target Marton or crack down on drug use in
Sointula, which, despite its reputation for a relaxed lifestyle, does
not have more marijuana use than other small communities, Lue said.

"He was released on a conditional sentence and ended up breaching a
second time and that brought him in contact again with the police," he said.

Police were not aware of the hunger strike until last week, Lue said.

Marton's doctor, Jane Clelland, speaking with his permission, said he
is doing exactly what he promised -- starving himself.

"It's really sad. He's a very nice man, just terribly principled in
his own way," she said.

"He's not crazy and I don't think he's just trying to draw attention
to himself. One may agree with him or disagree with him, but he has a point."

After Marton's last collapse, which occurred as he was to appear in
court on the second charge, Clelland admitted him to hospital and
gave him intravenous fluids.

"He got somewhat better, but when he got better he just got more
determined," she said.

Marton is a complicated character who is much-influenced by his
Hungarian background, Clelland said.

"He was sitting in hospital reading Hungarian poetry," she said.

Before starting the hunger strike, Marton had kidney problems and
vascular disease, Clelland said.

"He's on five meds for high blood pressure. He's not a well person."

Marton's sister, Juliana Bazso of Ladysmith, is hoping her brother
will change his mind.

"I understand he doesn't have the will to live because he can't fight
the RCMP anymore," she said.

"I have tried my best to talk him out of this behaviour, but there's
no way I could talk him out of it. He's the spitting image of our
father. Once he gets an idea in his head, there's no one going to change it."

Bazso sympathizes with her brother's desire to change the law, but
does not believe his death will make a difference.

"It's too big a sacrifice," she said.

"I just tell him every time that I love him. There's nothing else I can do."

Marton scoffs at the idea that his death will be in vain and says
other members of his club are ready to follow his lead.

"I have four or five volunteers. Stubborn old bastards who are
willing to die because it's so important to change that stupid law," he said.

Efforts to change his mind will not work, even though it is becoming
difficult to hold a heavy book, Marton said.

"I am going to die," he said. "Even if the charges are dropped, I
won't stop the hunger strike until they put back all my marijuana
exactly where it was and give me back my $3,000 and change the law."