Whole Life Times: Cannabis Crusader

May 2005

Cannabis Crusader

Without a positive ruling from the Supreme Court, California medical marijuana users like Pete Jimenez will still be in a legal haze

by Michael Simmons

In October of 1985, Pete Jimenez was diagnosed with AIDS and told he had 18 months to live. Nearly 20 years later, he sits in his modest Hollywood digs, surrounded by bamboo plants, aromatic incense and spiritual iconography, kindly offering a visitor repeated refills of green tea. His husky stature, multiple tattoos and piercings belie his gentle personality. But the soft-spoken Jimenez is not afraid to speak up; in 1991 he was beaten and dragged down the Capitol steps by D.C. police for non-violent civil disobedience in support of universal healthcare. Now the disabled activist is in the line of fire again: the imminent Supreme Court decision concerning the constitutionality of California’s medical marijuana laws threatens to upend his life.

Jimenez was a 21-year-old gay Angeleno in ’85, an accountant for Macy’s and Bullock’s and a college student working to become a child psychologist when he became ill with pneumocystis carinii pneumonia (PCP), a disease common to the HIV-positive. “By the age of 21, all my friends were dead,” he recalls matter-of-factly, sitting cross-legged on his bed. In the background, soothing wind chimes ring in melodic contrast to his stark words.

“I was the only one left,” he continues. “I knew I was sick. I had shingles and was sick for weeks. I knew I had whatever this gay cancer was. The doctor told me that I had 18 months to live and I should get my life in order. I thought ‘oh fuck, I am gonna die.’ ”

Determined to fight his illness, he attended the AIDS Mastery Workshop in Hollywood, run by facilitator Sally Fisher. “We figured out what routines in our lives were negative. They would break us down to build us back up again. I had to deprogram my lifestyle to make it more productive for my healthcare.”

Inspired by the workshop, Pete decided he had no time to waste and became an advocate for everything from gay rights to healthcare issues. He joined radical gay activist groups like ACT UP and Queer Nation, and eventually shifted his focus to fighting for medical cannabis. “We’ve been fighting for medications with ACT UP since the beginning,” asserts Jimenez. “We got our medications after protesting at the FDA and taking over people’s offices. I’ve taken over Republican senators’ offices and the Capitol Rotunda, chained myself to the White House fence, and been beaten by cops for protesting outside the Republican National Convention at the Houston Astrodome in 1992. These [actions] scare politicians into thinking about what you’re asking for.”

But Jimenez’ activities are increasingly hampered by AIDS-related physical problems. “My body tells me I can’t really do much, but my brain says, ‘What the hell are you doing lying here?’ It’s a tug-of-war.” Stinging muscle pain keeps him in bed much of the day. His neuropathy—nerve damage that causes pain and/or numbness—extends from his waist to the bottom of his feet and from his shoulders to the tips of his increasingly deformed fingers—doctors tell him he’ll eventually be fully paralyzed.

After trying a small pharmacy’s worth of pain medication, he found there weren’t enough pills in the world to alleviate his intractable agony. A non-smoker, Jimenez’s marijuana experiences had been limited to high school experimentation, but when his doctors suggested cannabis to alleviate the pain and nausea caused by taking 44 pills a day (including the multi-pill antiviral AIDS “cocktail”), Jimenez obtained some pot from a friend. He soon found that a few puffs taken an hour before and after he took his pills—and for pain and nausea as needed—dramatically improved his health.

The People of California vs. the Feds

In the early ’90s, cannabis clubs were sprouting in the Bay Area, servicing diseased patients—mostly those suffering from the effects of cancer and AIDS, although marijuana has been proven effective in treating glaucoma, multiple sclerosis, arthritis and even Tourette’s syndrome. In 1995, Scott Imler, an epileptic who’d founded the Santa Cruz Medical Cannabis Cooperative and written the successful Measure A which endorsed med-mar in that city, moved to LA (Imler would go on to co-author Prop. 215, which California voters passed in November 1996, legalizing medical marijuana under state—though not federal—law). With the help of other patients, Imler started the Los Angeles Cannabis Resource Center (LACRC) and began to issue member cards and share pot with those who could provide doctor recommendations. Pete Jimenez became member number 22.

Jimenez was now able to safely receive quality medical marijuana from a public provider—but the war between the federal government and states’ rights to determine medical marijuana legislation was just heating up. Despite repeated scientific inquiry affirming pot’s medical efficacy—most notably the monumental Institute of Medicine 1999 study authorized by then-Drug Czar Barry McCaffrey (www.medmjscience.org)—the Clinton Administration instigated civil action against six California cannabis clubs. The LA center—known for double verifying doctors’ letters, a rigorous screening process and a sliding scale for indigent patients—was left alone by the feds, because, according to a source in the Department of Justice, “We felt that the LACRC was doing a good job.”

Like its predecessor, the Bush Administration ignored the voters of California, authorizing the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) to begin attacking cannabis clubs and providers. On October 25, 2001, the DEA targeted the LACRC, abruptly disconnecting 960 seriously ill patients from their medication. “The DEA raided the place, took our medical records, our computers, our plants,” Jimenez shudders. “You couldn’t get it legally anymore, you had to go back on the street and risk everything again. I lost 25 pounds in that period.” Jimenez took part in a five-day group hunger strike in the LACRC parking lot, sleeping in a tent in the middle of West Hollywood. It was a noble effort, especially given the precarious health of the participants, and although it inspired no major change, it kept the proverbial pipe of public attention lit.

While a dozen or so cannabis clubs have opened in LA County since the closure of LACRC, some patients—including Jimenez—aren’t comfortable with many of these operations. Armed guards, no sliding scale and exorbitant prices have left Pete feeling that carpetbaggers hijacked the cannabis club concept, looking for easy money.

Unresolved Issues

In 2003, the California State Senate passed SB 420 to clear up unresolved issues not specified in Prop 215. Among the club models distinctly authorized by the bill are patient collectives made up of small groups of people sharing the labors and fruits of a communally tended garden. Under this legislated model, Jimenez and four other patients “designed our own resource center” outside of Los Angeles where they grow a modest crop. Every two weeks, on a rotating schedule and health permitting, a co-op member retrieves the processed medicine and distributes it among the group.

The US Supreme Court is expected to issue a decision on a key med-mar case between now and the end of June. Two California women, Angel McClary Raich and Diane Monson—both patients—sued then-Attorney General John Ashcroft in 2002 to prevent the federal government from prosecuting sick people who use medical marijuana. After the case wound its way through the courts, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled in favor of the women. In spite of the 11 states that have passed med-mar laws and the fact that national polls indicate up to four out of five Americans support med-mar (80 percent according to Time magazine in 2002; 72 percent in an 11/04 AARP poll of Americans 45 and older), the Bush Administration asked the Supremes to overturn the previous court ruling, citing the constitutional passage known as the “commerce clause,” which grants the feds the ability to overrule state law in cases of interstate commerce.

Given the conservative make-up of the Court, few activists in the med-mar movement are optimistic about the outcome of the ruling. After all, California homegrown can, in theory, affect interstate commerce through black market distribution, and as Scott Imler of the late, lamented LACRC quips, “The FDA regulates the flow rate of ketchup. There’s no reason to believe the feds won’t regulate marijuana.”

A decision against Raich et al wouldn’t overturn state med-mar laws, but it would override them in federal court. And it could empower federal law enforcement to amp up actions against cannabis clubs—and even smaller scale operations.

Bruce Mirken, Director of Communications for the Marijuana Policy Project, which filed an amicus brief on behalf of Raich and Monson, remains hopeful about the possibility of a Supreme negation: “It [would give] states impetus to pass medical marijuana laws. We can’t depend on the courts; it’s up to the political branches. We’ll be working very hard to mobilize pressure on Congress to bring our laws into the 21st Century.”

As for Pete Jimenez, challenge is medicine. He credits both cannabis and the fight for the right to use it as key to his beating the odds. “Activism and the will to help myself and help others has kept me alive for 20 years. To deny sick people basic needs like medical cannabis is a disgrace to the federal government. Most of my friends say they’re not scared of the Supreme Court, they’re just worried that they’ll have a harder time getting [what they need]. It’s not going to stop anybody from using it.”

Michael Simmons has written for LA Weekly, Los Angeles Times, Rolling Stone, High Times, Penthouse and The Progressive. He’s currently authoring Yippie! And The Politics Of Hip.

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