REEFER MAINSTREAM, Part 2 of 4

Here in Arizona, local pollsters say they don't bother to ask voters if
they smoke pot, because they assume so many will lie. "People don't tell
you the truth," says Bruce Merrill, a pollster and professor at Arizona
State University.

At New Times' request, Tempe-based media consultant and pollster Bob
Grossfeld added several marijuana-related questions to a recent poll he
conducted among Maricopa County voters. Grossfeld polled about 425 likely
voters in mid-October. About 20 percent said they had tried marijuana. In a
separate question, 20 percent said they knew people who smoke pot now. Only
10 percent said that they would use marijuana if it were to become as legal
as alcohol.

Grossfeld says he's not surprised by the results. The population he
surveyed -- likely or "high-efficacy" voters -- tends to be older and
richer than the average. And he agrees with Armentano and Merrill that many
people simply don't tell the truth when it comes to illegal activity.

For the third time in seven years, Arizona voters are poised to pass a
statewide pro-marijuana initiative. The first two, in 1996 and 1998,
allowed for the use of marijuana for medicinal reasons. They were largely
symbolic, since federal law supersedes state law. (The 1998 measure would
have reversed the '96 law, so a no vote was actually a pro-pot vote.)

But Proposition 203, on November's ballot, would potentially make a real
difference -- and not just for cancer patients -- by reducing penalties for
possessing up to two ounces of marijuana from a felony to a misdemeanor --
akin to getting a traffic ticket.

In other words, Harriet wouldn't get arrested.

The most recent statewide polls available show Proposition 203 with 53
percent in favor. Campaign insiders say the numbers have grown closer in
recent weeks. Bob Grossfeld's poll put Proposition 203 at 33 percent in
favor, 40 percent against and 27 percent undecided. He thinks the measure
will pass, but not by much.

Arizona's not the only place ready to change its pot laws. Next month,
Nevada voters will decide whether to eliminate all penalties -- criminal
and civil -- for possession of up to three ounces of marijuana. South
Dakotans will vote on allowing the production of industrial hemp, something
several states already allow. And in Canada, a heated public policy battle
is raging over whether to legalize marijuana entirely.

The marijuana leaf is more and more a part of our cultural landscape, even
in the most uptight corners of Arizona. Last month, political satirist P.J.
O'Rourke came to Phoenix to speak at a luncheon for the Goldwater
Institute, a conservative think tank with a libertarian bent. O'Rourke
packed a ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton with rich, white Republicans -- most
of them headed toward Social Security age. He joked about pot in a segue
into a discussion of the farm bill:

"Now, I admit, like most Americans my age, my actual experience with
farming was pretty much limited to raising some marijuana plants with a
grow light in my off-campus apartment."

That brought down the house.

Yet even with all the public policy reforms and all the jokes, the topic of
recreational marijuana use is taboo among those who find the stakes the
highest. Plenty of people are willing to talk anonymously about their
personal marijuana use, but it's difficult to find anyone in any sort of
position of pot-related authority -- from head shop owners (who pretend
they cater to tobacco smokers) to Proposition 203 backers (who insist they
only want to empty the jails) -- to talk openly about marijuana.

At the Goldwater Institute luncheon, before P.J. O'Rourke took the podium,
Dr. Jeff Singer, a physician and longtime supporter of pro-marijuana
initiatives, including Proposition 203, insisted that he and other
supporters of the ballot measure don't know anyone who smokes marijuana
recreationally. The initiative's not about that at all, he said. Sam
Vagenas, who's running the campaign, didn't return a call seeking comment
for this story.

Former Arizona attorney general Grant Woods surprised a lot of people this
year by coming out in support of Prop 203.

"There's some irony here with me," he says. "I hate to admit this, but I'm
one of the few people around who has never tried any drug, including
marijuana. So it has nothing to do with me personally. But to me, it's just
common sense."

He argues that most people who get arrested for marijuana possession
eventually wind up with only a fine. So why waste money on jails, public
defenders, prosecutors and judges? Just hand over the ticket on the front end.

"A lot of people use marijuana, and it really doesn't have any negative
effects upon them," Woods says. "Ultimately, I don't think it's that big of
a deal for society. I think we ought to be concentrating on drug
traffickers and stopping them, and on addicts, and we should be helping
them and not be running around trying to bust Willie Nelson every five
minutes."

Nelson, a longtime pot smoker and advocate of legalization, was arrested in
1994 with a joint in his car ashtray. Rumor has it that he once smoked a
joint in the White House.

"If everybody in the country was Willie Nelson, this country would be a
much happier place," Woods says.

As for Arizona? "There's a lot of Willies out there, I guess."

As it turns out, the best way to find out about pot smokers is to talk to
them -- one by one.

THE LAWYER

Sally has no scientific reason for keeping her pot in the freezer. It just
seems as good a place as any.

"Don't say what a mess my freezer is," she says, as she opens the door,
revealing light cream cheese, salmon steak, English muffins, edamame and
several bags of Starbucks coffee beans. There, under a box of spinach, is
Sally's stash.

Sally's in her late 50s, and she's practiced law her whole career. She
knows firsthand that the legal profession is filled with stoners -- law
students, prosecutors, judges.

But finding smoking buddies can be tricky. For Sally, marijuana is a purely
social pleasure. She's single, but she never smokes alone. She's careful
not to reveal her little secret to the wrong person. Not only could she be
busted, she could be disbarred. Or worse, she jokes, the State Bar might
try to cure her.

Sally tests new friends gingerly.

"You can talk about how stupid the drug war is, and everybody agrees," she
says. "And about how many kids we've got locked up for smoking dope. And
then you say something like, Boy, if I got locked up for every joint I've
had, my ass would never get out.' And then the other person says, I know.'
And it's this kind of a secret passing along.

"And at some point, you say, Would you like a glass of wine, or would you
prefer a joint?' But you do this sort of feeling around first to make sure
they're comfortable with it."

Sally hasn't tried to mix work and pot since she clerked in law school.