When I was in sixth grade, I missed the school field trip to Sacramento to visit the state capitol. I can’t remember why. The point is, I had never been to California’s capitol building in Sacramento until January 13, 2015.
By this time, my marriage was over, but my commitment to my business and my employees had evolved into advocating for statewide industry regulation through the California Cannabis Industry Association, the state’s first such trade association.
As a CCIA board member, I was part of its delegation to the capitol that January day. The association and its lobbyist had identified several key legislative offices for us to visit. These were legislators whom we, as an industry, expected to take up the challenge of regulating California’s nineteen-year-old, rather unruly cannabis industry in the upcoming legislative session or who had a key role in the process that would impact any cannabis bills.
The previous year had seen the state’s first two solid legislative attempts at cannabis regulation in California’s history actually make some progress (Senate Bill 1262 by Lou Correa and Assembly Bill 1892 by Tom Ammiano). Although those bills ultimately died, the fact that they made it as far as they did through the legislative process meant the issue, if perhaps not yet the industry as a whole, was being taken seriously.
The unregulated “gray” market was spinning out of control and in many cases blending all too well with the illicit market. A few states had already legalized cannabis for recreational use and were well underway with their regulatory processes. There were a couple of freshmen legislators whose districts were significantly tied to the cannabis industry and who were prepared to take cannabis legislation seriously. Regulation was imminent.
It was imperative that the industry as a whole be part of the conversion in a significant way. Up until 2015, this hadn’t really been the case. The industry had not yet developed its own voice, and, consequently, in 2014 and the years prior, the driving force behind cannabis regulation attempts was law enforcement. The California Police Chiefs Association was the only voice in the room, pushing for regulation that was, no surprise, heavily slanted along their bias.
As the saying goes in Sacramento, if you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu. The cannabis industry in California had to raise its voice and join the conversation to ensure that any significant cannabis legislation was balanced and fair; it had to provide a counterweight to the cops.
That lobby day in Sacramento in January 2015 represented a shift toward exactly that.
CCIA’s lobbyist had set up office visits with several members of the Assembly and one member of the Senate. At the time, I could not have explained the difference between the two houses. Probably because I missed that school field trip.
California’s capitol building is grand and beautiful, and I was completely awestruck. Walking into the building that morning and passing through the security checkpoint, I was in my usual speaking “uniform”: size two black sheath dress from Banana Republic, three-and-a-half-inch neutral pumps, leather portfolio. Stepping my already five-foot-eight-inch frame into those heels made me nearly six imposing feet tall. With minimal makeup and polished hair, I knew I looked every inch the way a capitol political operative was supposed to look. But that was on the outside. On the inside, I was a jittery mess. Fortunately, I had been confident walking in heels since forever, but this was no time to get cocky. I decided to try settling my nerves by focusing on my steps. It worked. A double win.
What I also knew—and had known and capitalized on for years—was that I did not look the way people expected a cannabis operative to look. I knew this because I had heard exactly that from the mouth of nearly every individual I had met along my cannabis journey. The manifestation of the six-foot polished individual wearing a black dress in front of them was at complete odds with the ridiculous, tie-dyed, dreadlocked stereotype that was still, unfortunately, etched in so many minds, and I gloried in the juxtaposition.
I had found that when you catch people off guard in this way, you gain yourself an advantage. That disruption to their thought process buys you time: time to make your point that much stronger; time to shift the conversation in a direction you want it to go; time to allow the other person to begin restructuring what they think they know about a cannabis operator. This disruption was my secret weapon, and I planned to use it to its full effect in the capitol along with the rest of the impressive and similarly dressed CCIA delegation.
The first legislative member we met with was Assembly-member Ken Cooley, who had been vocal about the importance of California regulating its medical cannabis industry and expressed intent to build on the prior year’s failed regulatory cannabis bill, SB 1262 (Correa).
An important side note: while the industry had shifted to using the term “cannabis,” nearly everyone else was still using the word “marijuana,” a slang term for the plant and product that has its roots in the racist sociopolitical propaganda perpetuated by staunch prohibitionist and first Federal Bureau of Narcotics director Harry Anslinger. The propaganda portrayed deviant and ridiculous behavior of Black and brown people allegedly under the influence of the drug and was intended as a fearmongering tactic to turn society against marijuana.
California’s industry objected to the term and changed its name accordingly.
Although the groundbreaking legislation that was to pass in 2015 initially bore the objectionable word “marijuana,” that term was later stricken in clean-up legislation in 2016, replaced with “cannabis,” and there it stands today.
No one, at least in California, uses the term “marijuana” anymore in legitimate policy or industry discussions, a significant win that illustrates the important sociopolitical shift that has taken place in the state.
Back to Sacramento: in prior years, cannabis bills had been referred to the Public Safety Committee, which was exactly where law enforcement wanted them. The law-enforcement trade associations had a lot of influence over this committee and would therefore be more successful in amending any cannabis bills heard there to suit their views.
The industry did not agree with cannabis regulatory bills going to the Public Safety Committee and wanted different committee assignments for the new legislation we knew was coming. Specifically, we wanted input from the committees on Business and Professions and Agriculture.
While there were undoubtedly public safety issues surrounding cannabis, we, as an industry, did not feel it was appropriate that they be the primary committees to review cannabis bills. Law enforcement had a place at the table, but it shouldn’t be their table. The industry would make its case—successfully—that a product changing hands for money was commerce and any policy regulating that commercial transaction should be sent to the appropriate committee: Business and Professions. Similarly, a plant that produces a viable crop is agriculture, again, something for which the state has a committee.
As I remember, while I was sitting in Assemblymember Cooley’s office that morning, he came out from behind his large mahogany desk and perched himself on its corner. He looked relaxed, like he’d done this a million times, because he had. Our lobbyist introduced the association and its interests. We then were expected to individually introduce ourselves. As a group of seven to eight individuals, lobbyist included, the introductions took a bit of time—more time for me to sit there and sweat.
By this point in my career, I was a seasoned public speaker with no fear of the microphone. But this was different. This wasn’t the same as speaking to a local volunteer group in a circle of folding chairs or at a fairground industry event; this was prime time. I felt my throat constricting and didn’t know how I would be able to speak when it was my turn, but all my previous practice paid off, and I did.
I was inspired by how open-minded Assemblymember Cooley was about the industry and how positive he was about the need for California to regulate it. As I glanced around the book-lined office, I was completely overwhelmed that I could be sitting there, having such a direct and open conversation with a state lawmaker. With the California State Assembly seal dominating the wall behind Mr. Cooley and the plate glass windows offering views to the capitol building, it was an experience unlike any other. As I studied the view, I had a flashback to that nerve-racking opening day at 530 Collective five and a half years earlier and marveled at how far both the industry and I had come.
The second office we went to was that of Assemblymember Jim Wood. He sat with us around a large burlwood table in his personal office; he was dressed in a well-tailored wool suit paired with a muted yet elegant tie. He had impeccable manners, and as we each went around the table and made our introductions, he listened studiously, appearing very focused on what we each had to say. He was intense yet relaxed, the very picture of confidence.
Assemblymember Wood had just been elected in November 2014 to represent Assembly District 2. Prior to that, he had served two terms on the Healdsburg City Council and had practiced family dentistry. He was on the industry’s radar because his district, AD2, encompassed the counties of Humboldt, Mendocino, and Trinity, otherwise known as that globally renowned cannabis mecca, the Emerald Triangle.
Starting in the 1960s, the Emerald Triangle began drawing cannabis farmers because rugged, sparsely populated terrain was also sparse on law enforcement. With the passage of Prop 215 in 1996, cultivation in the region exploded. Today it arguably produces more cannabis than any other region in the United States, both licensed and unlicensed.
Assemblymember Wood had also spoken publicly during his campaign about introducing a bill to regulate cannabis cultivation. He knew that this issue was a big one for his district, and he was driven, specifically, by the environmental damage caused by so many of the cartel growers, the worst of the cannabis actors.
With tightening restrictions all along the US/Mexico border, many cartels had discovered that it was easier to simply set up their own grows in remote parts of the state, often on public land. They used heavy pesticides long outlawed in this country, which made their way into waterways, critically endangering wildlife. Water from streams and rivers was often diverted to the cultivation sites to the detriment of those water sources. The sites themselves were usually heavily armed as well as booby-trapped against unwanted visitors. In fairness, it wasn’t just the cartels that were engaged in this activity, protected by and under the guise of Prop 215. Plenty of US citizens both from California and other states were just as careless with respect to the environment, their illicit cannabis cultivation just as damaging. Regardless of who was doing it, the environmental destruction was egregious and had to stop.
Assemblymember Wood knew he could not control the negative environmental impacts without regulating the activity that causes it—cultivation—so he set out to do just that.
The next three legislative offices we met with—the offices of Assemblymember Rob Bonta, Assemblymember Reggie Jones-Sawyer, and Senator Mike McGuire, I believe—were selected because those members had also mentioned their intent to take up cannabis regulation as part of the upcoming session.
The day was a blur, culminating in a reception hosted by the California Cannabis Industry Association at the swanky restaurant Chops, directly across from the capitol, during which we saw a parade of legislators and staffers, some from that day’s meetings, including Jim Wood—whom I couldn’t get off my mind. All of them were interested to learn more about the CCIA and the cannabis industry.
As the weeks progressed, several cannabis bills were introduced and started slogging their way through the committees and the legislative process.
During this time, I divested from CCIA and aligned with a newer, smaller trade association, the Emerald Growers Association (EGA). It was exactly what its name implied: an association comprising primarily growers in the Emerald Triangle. Because I was a retailer, my involvement with EGA initially raised some eyebrows amongst the growers. But, unlike many other retailers, I was not vertically integrated, meaning I did not grow my own product to stock my own shelves. I was 100 percent dependent on the growers, the cultivators. My success was tied to theirs, and we were in this together. As a small retailer, I related more with the small growers. We needed to come together collaboratively rather than competitively, and the organization made us stronger and enabled us to speak with one voice. This is the very reason trade associations exist in the first place, but up until this point, there had not been such an association exclusively for the smaller, independent cannabis cultivators and retailers. We were in uncharted territory.
Growing rapidly in both scope and membership diversity, EGA rebranded itself later in 2015 to become the California Growers Association, and I became CGA’s policy director. To herald its entry into the state political arena, the association hired Jason Bryant of Bryant Governmental Affairs to lobby on its behalf. Jason had been the head lobbyist for the California Dental Association for several years; he had substantial legislative contacts and a stellar reputation. While initially somewhat hesitant about taking a cannabis industry association as a client, he did. Taking this leap of faith, Jason became the second of only two lobbyists to actively and significantly engage with the California legislature on cannabis policy throughout the 2015 legislative session. The following year, there would be two dozen following in his footsteps.
Throughout the spring and summer of 2015, I spent about a third of my time in Sacramento. The systems and processes I had put in place at 530 Collective that enabled it to run without my daily oversight were holding. I built those systems on two principles: clarity and trust. I developed clear guidelines and set clear expectations; then I let management take the reins. I had implemented clear operational policies and procedures along with processes for disciplinary action if those policies were not adhered to. Management was empowered to handle any disciplinary situations that arose. The daily financial processes were set up with double verification so that every penny could be tracked and all individuals handling cash were held accountable. The systems for inventory replenishment were also spelled out clearly so that management knew exactly to whom to go for new products. I had created detailed budget formulas that told them exactly how much money they could spend on any product category. Management was empowered to create the daily break schedules for their shifts so that everyone got their meal and rest periods in accordance with labor law.
The entire team knew they could reach me on my cell phone at any time, but the managers also knew they were required to notify me only for something critical: a security incident of any kind, missing money over one hundred dollars, severe and unexpected inventory shortages, or any employee incident that may have violated labor law and/or resulted in termination. I was accessible, but I had also given them their independence. It was a tricky, delicate balance, but it worked.
I had an incredible team that I trusted, and they were well equipped to handle the increase in traffic that the store was experiencing. They knew what was going on in Sacramento and were excited that they, through my voice, were part of the conversation.
Progress was being made on the cannabis bills as they passed out of their respective committees. I sat through countless hours of hearings, pored over hundreds of pages of proposed legislation, and, each time a bill was amended, provided the CGA’s executive director with ongoing analysis of the sections focused on retail.
Working through the legislative process, the industry as a whole, for the very first time, had a voice as to the edits and amendments we wanted made to the bills as they slogged their way through the process from committee to committee and from the Assembly to the Senate and vice versa. We were being heard, and we were being taken seriously. While we did not get our way on all aspects of the proposed regulations, neither did the other interest groups with whom we were often at odds. But, as any attorney will tell you, mutual dissatisfaction is the hallmark of a good negotiation. All the interest groups felt optimistic that we would emerge at the end of the session with the state’s first regulatory framework for all aspects of the industry—cultivation, manufacturing, testing, distribution, and retail—and, most important, that such regulation would be balanced as a result of input from the various interest groups.
Indeed, that proved to be the case.
At the end of the 2015 legislative session, the several cannabis regulatory bills introduced had been boiled down to three: AB243, AB266, and SB643. All of them made it off their house floors with tremendous bipartisan support and onto Governor Jerry Brown’s desk where, on October 9, 2015, that good man signed them all into law, thereby creating the nation’s most robust, most comprehensive, most unique cannabis regulatory framework.
It had taken nineteen years from the passage of the country’s first medical cannabis law in 1996 to the passage of the Medical Marijuana Regulation and Safety Act of 2015, but the industry was finally on its way to becoming a regulated powerhouse in California’s economic future.