PITCHING IN FOR THE CAUSE

I thought of Suzanne's smile as I read an update on the Los Angeles
Cannabis Resource Center. Scott Imler, president of the LACRC, was
being interviewed. The article suggested the center would not reopen
and Scott could face criminal charges. I wondered if he would be put
in jail.

This is wrong, I muttered, as Suzanne's image became stronger. She and
I volunteered at AIDS Project Los Angeles, and suddenly I really
missed her. I remembered getting together a few weeks before she died.

That night, after watching a video, Suzanne complained about her lack
of appetite and the pain in her body. "Just a couple hits of pot," she
said, "may give me the munchies and ease my neuropathy." I called a
close friend. He said, "Don't worry. Suzanne is very sick. I'll bring
over a joint."

One hour later, with smoky haze in the room, Suzanne was eating
Chinese food and laughing about a lobbying visit we made to a
Republican staffer during a HIV Advocacy Day event in Sacramento. He
could not believe a straight, white woman could have AIDS. "I hope I
made a difference in his life," she said.

I was getting angry as I continued to read Scott's story. The article
led me to believe he was giving up his battle to fight for the
implementation of Proposition 215, the voter-approved initiative that
allows for the lawful distribution of medicinal marijuana.

I don't know Scott well, I thought, but interacted with him in my job
as deputy to Councilman Jeffrey Prang. He occasionally asked our
office for help. In addition, members of the West Hollywood City
Council supported their request for funds to purchase a building in
our city.

Furthermore, I knew the LACRC operated in cooperation with the West
Hollywood Sheriff's Station and provided dignity for patients. They
distributed medicinal marijuana just as any prescription drug was sold
and did not force sick people down alleyways endangering their safety
or encouraging a black market trade. Many elected officials agreed the
Los Angeles Cannabis Resource Center is the model for clubs of this
sort.

I gave Scott a call to see what I could do. We met the following week.
Scott, a tall, thin man, smiled nervously as we shook hands. His face
was pale. "Scott," I said, "I read Karen's article. It seems like
you're giving up, and I have always admired your courageousness and
perseverance."

He said, "I've resigned myself this may be over, but I am encouraged
you want to help. I am afraid the federal prosecutor may seize our
building and forfeit all the proceeds. I have a buyer who would rent
me some space if that doesn't happen. I will know more in a few days."
We continued to talk with optimism, but knew there should be a backup
plan.

"There was a successful hunger strike at UCLA," I said naively.
"Students wanted a Chicano studies program, and people fasted with
them." He told me his mother went on a hunger strike for 31 days. "She
almost died. A hunger strike is very, very serious," he reiterated,
uncertain about the idea.

I decided to contact Mary Lucey, an LACRC board member. She is a
well-known AIDS activist who participated in many civil disobedience
actions. We met serving on the L.A. County Commission on HIV Health
Services and became closer friends after our mutual appointment to the
California State HIV Advisory Board.

She is smart and tough. She is also very sick.

On Friday, May 31, Scott called with bad news. "Papers were filed to
take the building. The feds indicted the club, as well as the lien
holders, Wells Fargo Bank and the City of West Hollywood." Club
supporters were contacted. We met that Sunday.

I was afraid after the meeting. Everyone had a personal war story
about a community action. I'd never been arrested. Screaming in the
streets during the AB 101 rallies did not count. For God sakes, I work
for a local council member. I am a suit activist. I could not believe
I even had the idea of a hunger strike.

The group agreed to begin community vigils starting the following
Wednesday. Too soon, I thought, yet, timidly raised my hand when the
question was asked who is willing to hunger strike. I volunteered to
organize the press events, too. A day later I knew better. I am a
diabetic; I could not do the open-ended hunger strike. Organizers
agreed I could be a one-day hunger striker instead.

I was anxious Wednesday morning. Experience taught me press
conferences are a crapshoot. What if no one showed up? It would be
disappointing if the first day's events were a flop. Thankfully, I
worried for naught.

Supporters, participants and my boss, Jeff Prang, came and spoke
eloquently. Television cameras filmed. Reporters wrote down
information. Photographers snapped pictures. People heard the report
on news radio. The L.A. Times printed a story as well. The message got
out.

It was a short day of hope and a long, tough night of unrest. Sleeping
on the street is difficult. The impacts of HIV, diabetes and the
elements took its toll, but I was not alone. I slept with four very
courageous people.

I am proud to show my support for the LACRC, but I am scared. LACRC
patients are not criminals, and their lives should not be put at risk.
The Bush Administration must not treat the LACRC, the City of West
Hollywood, and Wells Fargo Bank like they treat foreign drug lords. It
is wrong.

Until the prosecutions are stopped, supporters are planning more
protests. They need your help. For more information, call the LACRC at
(323) 874-0811. Also, contact your elected officials, be they local
council members or state and federal representatives. Tell them to
demand Attorney General John Ashcroft stop attacking sick and
suffering people. Let them know they need to act quickly.

For me, this experience continues to be very challenging yet I know
Suzanne is watching. I can see her smiling.

Howard Jacobs is on a temporary leave of absence. He expects to return
to work as deputy to West Hollywood City Councilman Jeffrey Prang by
next month.