Stories from the front lines: California’s cannabis activists
Meeting Jack Herer
By Michael R. Aldrich
In June 1972 we were trying frantically to raise enough signatures by June 19th to qualify the California Marijuana Initiative (CMI) for the November ballot. At that time, each signature had to be precincted before the petitions could be turned in. This meant we had volunteers looking up the address of the signer in huge volumes the county provided, and writing in the precinct number in the right column of the petition.
One day a very ordinary looking man with short hair—not a hippie-- walked in to our Los Angeles CMI office and said he’d like to help legalize marijuana. We asked him to help with the precincting and he was happy to do so. He said his name was Jack Herer and he’d just gotten out of the military. I was there to help coordinate the signature gatherers, taking in new petitions and distributing more to the volunteers.
As we were talking, I showed Jack a packet of our Acapulco Gold rolling papers, the green pack made with hemp paper. He was astonished and said, “You mean there’s something else you can do with it besides smoke it?” That aroused his interest and he spent the next several years researching hemp paper. His research would result in his ground-breaking book, “The Emperor Wears No Clothes” (1985). Jack also got Michelle and I to proofread his book, correcting mistakes or suggesting additions. I believe he asked Chris Conrad and Mikki Norris to do the same. The book was a huge success and he reprinted it at least a dozen times.
I’m proud that we got Jack interested in hemp paper. His book greatly broadened our understanding that legalization should include all the industrial uses of hemp. He changed our world.
Jack Herer, Mike Aldrich, and Michael Krawitz, looking over my pipe collection in our apartment in July 2006
My First Cannabis Rally
By Dr. Amanda Reiman
I began to consider myself a drug reform activist during grad school. Living in Chicago and working on my master’s degree in social work in 2000, I was learning about the social injustices of the drug war. The crack/cocaine sentencing disparity laws, the collateral sanctions for drug offenses and the racial disparities in drug arrests, especially cannabis, the most widely used illicit substance, were all components of my education, and my outrage.
At the time, cannabis was still very illegal in Chicago, and, as a result, the opportunities for activism were scarce. I remember attending a “Hemp Fest” in 2001 by Lake Michigan. The event was heavily attended by police and people were afraid to show favoritism towards legalization, let alone consume. I had a passion for changing the laws, but no outlet to do so. Then I moved to Oakland.
With a desire to continue my education, I moved to the Bay Area in 2002 to start the PhD program at Berkeley. I had already been involved with Students for Sensible Drug Policy (SSDP) and immediately joined up with the Berkeley chapter. At the time, doctors were still being prosecuted for recommending cannabis to patients. There was a big rally planned in Sacramento with SSDP and the newly formed Americans for Safe Access. The plan was to march on the capitol in support of doctors like Tod Mikuriya, Dave Bearman, Jeff Hergenrather, and Frank Lucido. These physicians were risking their freedom and their careers in the name of safe access. I had never been to a rally before. I wasn’t sure what to expect. But, on that day, with a school bus parked in front of Sproul Plaza, I found that I had been an activist all along.
An introverted person, I was never one to walk up to strangers, let alone try and compel them to do something. But, as I stood on the plaza that day, something was different. My desire to make change was stronger than my social awkwardness. I found myself walking up to every student who passed by and trying to convince them to get on the bus and come with us. I said to them, “You are at BERKELEY! This is why you came here! To make change in the world!” I was successful at convincing a dozen or so to come along and a few hours later we were in Sacramento, marching, chanting, and waving signs. That is the day that my activism turned into action. And I never looked back.
The author at a cannabis rally circa 2012
Kamala Harris meets with cannabis activists, 2006 While running for San Francisco DA in 2004
By Chris Conrad
Kamala Harris spoke at a medical marijuana forum to try to gain the cannabis vote. The City had voted to tolerate cannabis dispensaries and the legislature had enacted SB 420, allowing patient “collectives” to sell to qualified patients. We were all enamored of DA Hallinan, who had endorsed the Prop 215 medical marijuana initiative in 1996, supported legalization and brought down the number of marijuana arrests. Despite her opposition to the excesses of the drug war; she did not feel that was the right time for legalization. After she took office, arrests and convictions continued to decline for about a year. Then in 2006 came a big spike in the number of cases charged and filed. Likewise, more cases were being taken over by federal prosecutors that did not allow for medical marijuana defenses. The cannabis community felt betrayed and sought protection. Harris reached out to cannabis activists with an invitation to join an advisory group on how to navigate a difficult legal situation. As the state’s most prominent expert witness to testify in cannabis cases, I was one of the invitees. At one meeting, we discussed how to let law enforcement protect the collectives and gardens authorized by the City, such as giving officers addresses or putting marks on the exteriors of buildings. Harris was concerned that such information could be leaked to criminal gangs who would then target the collectives, or the police officers themselves may use the information to identify grows and distributors, conduct raids and file charges in state or federal court. She said she could dismiss cases and devise protocols for her staff know how to differentiate cases that were legitimate from illegal operations. “I want to stop the police before they even make contact with state-legal patients and collectives,” she said. “What can I do about that will rein in that part of the equation?” “Fire or transfer the lead narc who keeps raiding legal dispensaries and filing federal charges,” we answered in unison. Harris laughed. “I can’t control police operations, but I’ll see what I can do to get him reassigned.” After that, the number of arrests and files charged dropped. We were not made privy to all her actions, but by late 2006, the spike in cases ended and from then on, the number of cases steadily declined and fell below the pace when Terrence Hallinan was DA. Harris had kept her word. We were disappointed but not surprised when Harris opposed Richard Lee’s Prop 19 legalization while running for California Attorney General in 2010 and that she likewise opposed Prop 64 passed by voters in 2016. Her office did little to oppose it, however, other than expressing her lack of support. However, in the US Senate, she sponsored the MORE act to remove cannabis from the CSA. And when she ran for the Democratic nomination for president in 2020, she was outspoken in support of legalization.
The author and other activists including fellow CCHS board member Michael Aldrich with then SF DA Kamala Harris in 2004.
A bet that paid off for cannabis
By Chris Conrad
“Let’s do something about legalizing pot,” I said, while sharing a joint at the 1988 campaign victory party for Proposition 203, California’s insurance reform initiative.
“That’s impossible, Chris. They will never legalize marijuana.” “You’re wasting your time even thinking about it.” “Bush is going to be even worse than Reagan was on the Drug War.” “You’ll be a laughing stock!”
“Well,” I replied to that chorus of discouragement, “I bet I can come up with a plan to legalize marijuana but at some point I’ll need your help to pull it off.” “Yeah, sure,” they responded without showing any expectations.
That bet changed my life. I first read the congressional hearing transcripts for the 1937 Marihuana Tax Act and used it to rebrand the plant. I founded the Business Alliance for Commerce in Hemp (BACH) and Family Council on Drug Awareness based on a global strategy to divide the cannabis issue into four goals: Industrial hemp, medical marijuana, adult consumption and home growing and regulated commercial market and promote each on its own terms. I cobbled together a national network of new and existing activists who distributed tons of my strategy sheets and educational brochures across the country, such as The Many Uses of Hemp and Ten Things Every Teacher, Parent and Teenager Should Know About Marijuana. We got hemp bills introduced into state legislatures. We reestablished global trade in industrial hemp products, leading to the formation of the Hemp Industries Association. Early on, I completely redesigned Jack Herer’s The Emperor Wears No Clothes. He and I co-authored and organized the California Hemp Initiative petitioners for years training petitioners and educating voters without ever qualifying for the ballot. By 1995, medical marijuana patient stories had turned the tide on public opinion about cannabis, and activists turned to The Compassionate Use Act petition drive.
My wife, Mikki Norris, and I were recruited to be the liaisons between the activist community and the professional campaign run by Californians for Medical Rights. We had to navigate various rifts and schisms in the cannabis community over its relationship to the professional campaign, but by May we knew it would qualify for the ballot.
Once we had the number, Prop 215, I decided that now was the time to call in all those favors from the Prop 203 team on my bet, that if I came up with a plan that could legalize marijuana, they would lend a hand. I worked my way through the rolodex and made call after call, to which every one of my contacts from Prop 203 gave the same reply:
“What bet?”
Ultimately, not one of them came through and helped out; but the coalition of cannabis reformers who stepped forward to the challenge carried the day. Prop 215 passed and, thanks to a lot of hard work, the world has never been the same.
Disclaimer: All stories are submitted by outside activists and their views and perspectives do not reflect those of the California Cannabis Historical Society. CCHS did not validate any claims made by the authors of these stories.