The first months, and even the first year, of 530’s operation were incredibly slow. While this downtime was not great for the revenue stream, it did have an upside: it afforded me the time to read and research the laws.
I spent countless hours on the internet. I read and analyzed the text of Proposition 215, Senate Bill 420, and the Brown Guidelines; I mentally devoured every applicable Health and Safety code that mentioned cannabis; I read anything I could get my hands on that explained cannabis law.
I scrutinized the 2010 People v. Kelly ruling that changed permissible cannabis cultivation limits; 2011 found me poring over the Pack v. Long Beach ruling that changed how cities could permit cannabis retailers.
If it affected the store or the patients, I read it.
Understanding the legal landscape around cannabis not only quenched my own thirst for knowledge but became instrumental in building and maintaining the customers’ trust as well as establishing my credibility with local officials. I did not realize it at the time, but through my extensive absorption of California’s cannabis law landscape, I was taking my first steps on the path toward becoming a resource to whom both groups would turn in the coming years as the industry and regulation continued to progress. Though the controversial nature of cannabis somewhat forced these understandings, thoroughly comprehending the legal landscape of one’s industry is probably an all-around good business practice, regardless of your industry. As they say, knowledge is power, and I was absolutely able to leverage both in subsequent years.
Embracing the controversial nature of cannabis stores in the City of Shasta Lake meant that I had to be part of the conversation. I had to know what was being said by the powers that be, the local government. Attending both city council and planning commission meetings was requisite, as was speaking at them when appropriate. Prior to embarking on this cannabis journey, I had never gone to any government meetings. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Consequently, I needed to attend for two reasons: to learn the process and hear what was being said. I felt awkward and out of place but always stepped up to the microphone when there was an opportunity to speak. Despite having received an A in my college speech class, my voice cracked and wavered, and I said “um” way too many times, but I knew instinctively that I needed to speak. My store and my industry needed a voice, and the city needed to hear from both. Nervousness aside, I was always dressed professionally. I kept my tone respectful and my points succinct. In my conduct alone, I was setting myself apart from the vociferous cannabis “activists” who often barraged the dais with profanity and threats about their “rights.”
At the early planning commission hearings and subsequent city council meetings for the City of Shasta Lake during which they discussed cannabis, a sticking point that came up in nearly every conversation was the incongruity between state and federal law. At the time, this was probably the greatest political and legal obstacle the industry had to overcome. I heard this incongruity again and again from the lips of community members who were against cannabis, city officials, and particularly the city attorney. Those on the opposing side of cannabis could not get their heads around how the hell it could be allowed at the state level while still federally illegal.
Even from my standpoint, I wondered how this could be and was intrigued by the conundrum. How was it that California voters could have passed an initiative that was in direct opposition to federal law? If conflict with federal law was such a big deal, then why was Prop 215 allowed to stand, legally?
In today’s world, this argument against cannabis is hardly ever heard anymore, but in 2009, it was at the top of the opposition’s list. I realized I had better understand it and, even more important, be able to articulate a sound counterargument.
The answer I found was so simple that I was shocked anyone was using the conflict between state and federal law as a legitimate anti-cannabis platform. As a nation, we have, right in front of us—both current and historical—numerous examples where states have enacted laws that are incongruous with federal law. In some cases, the federal law prevailed while in others, the states ultimately won; in still other cases, the country is still divided on the legal standing of social issues. For instance:
While it has its rightful place on the above list as it pertains to states’ rights, cannabis is unique in that it is both a social issue and a commercial industry. Although alcohol, guns, and tobacco align somewhat with cannabis in their commercial aspects, the controversy is reserved for the end product only; no one has ever been up in arms (pun intended) about barley or grape cultivation or steel manufacturing, for example.
Cannabis alone is unique in that controversy abounds along every link of the commercial supply chain from cultivation to manufacturing, to retail sales, to consumption. Not only is there the controversy around its negative social justice impacts, particularly on people of color, but also the social controversy concerning a consenting adult’s right to choose what they put in their body.
The Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution grants states the right to pass and enforce their own laws that may, at times, be incongruent with their federal counterparts.
At the time, this seemed almost too simple.
Certainly, it could not be this simple when the opposing side was sounding such a strong hue and cry. Or was the passionate opposition to cannabis less about the legal standing of its laws and more about how it resonates with the individual?
Perhaps it is that cannabis strikes a deeper societal chord than seat belts. And in truth, isn’t this the case for any set of activists, regardless of what side of the issue they’re on? Each side always has opinions about which they are protective and passionate—even if those opinions are not always based on logic.
I certainly have my own opinions and beliefs. I don’t like to have them ridiculed, dismissed, or changed. Be they right or wrong in the eyes of another, they are mine, and I hold them dear. For this reason, throughout my tenure as a cannabis advocate and operator, I very rarely spoke from the perspective of opinion. One of the only times I went public with an opinion was when I worked on the opposition campaign to Proposition 64 in 2016. While ultimately in favor of state legalization, I did not fall into the “at all costs” camp. There were enough flaws in Prop 64 (which to me was primarily written to favor big business over independent, grassroots operators), as well as it coming too soon on the heels of the legislature’s MMRSA (California still hadn’t regulated its Wild West medical cannabis industry, and adding the recreational-use dynamic was only going to complicate matters), that I threw my lot in with the opposition.
California voters felt differently, and in November 2016, California became the nation’s fifth state to legalize cannabis for recreational use. Although I was on the losing side of that battle, I respect the electoral process and the will of the people. And that’s that.
I always felt that given my position as a cannabis operator, my opinion was self-evident. No need to hammer home the obvious. Instead, anytime I spoke, I did so from a position of logic. I spoke about case law. I spoke about statutory law. I spoke about precedent.
I found very quickly that this gave people pause. They were expecting me to come out swinging by clamoring about my rights and trumpeting my opinion.
I never did.
I believe this is something that set me apart from other advocates and activists of the day. While this approach may or may not have given me any more credibility over others, what I noticed was the differing effect my approach had on the other party; it gave the person to whom I was speaking space to listen and contemplate without becoming defensive. The other advocates I had witnessed in action typically came at any cannabis dialogue with a combative tone and a chip on their shoulder, everything about them screaming an “us versus them” attitude. I saw no reason that a productive conversation couldn’t replace that style of communication, and I adjusted my approach accordingly.
When someone comes at you with an opinion, it is very easy to go on the defensive and quickly present a counter-opinion. Certainly, this makes for engaging and oftentimes entertaining debate. In the cannabis arena of my early operator years, I found this approach counterproductive, and so I defaulted again and again to the position of sharing facts, sharing information, and offering safe cover for conversation under the umbrella of logic.
Opinions are wonderful, yet they are mostly unimportant except to their holder.
Keeping my public opinion out of the conversation served me well year after year with whomever I was engaging, be they other cannabis advocates, state and local lawmakers, or regulatory agencies.
This is a lesson I continue to apply to all areas of my life to this day.