Pubdate: Fri, 23 April 1999 Source: Sacramento Bee (CA) Copyright: 1999 The Sacramento Bee Contact: P.O.Box 15779, Sacramento, CA 95852 Feedback: http://www.sacbee.com/about_us/sacbeemail.html Website: http://www.sacbee.com/ Forum: http://www.sacbee.com/voices/voices_forum.html AUTHOR: M.S. Enkoji, Bee staff writer ARCATA POLICE CHIEF FINDS 'LOCAL SOLUTION' TO POT LAW ARCATA -- In the chill of a spring afternoon, Charles McDowell gripped the bowl of a pipe with fingers gnarled with cherry-sized knots from arthritis. He raised the pipe to his lips, closed his eyes and dragged mightily on the orange glow as if his life depended on it. Some days, it feels like it does. "Yeah, see," said McDowell, spreading his fingers as wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils. "I take steroids and all, but nothing helps like this." Marijuana takes the edge off the pain racking his hands so he can get on with his life, McDowell swears -- and his doctor agrees. Luckily for him, he lives in this seaside college town, a sort of ground zero for the legal thorn bush of Proposition 215, the voter initiative that legalized marijuana for medical use. And luckily for him, Mel Brown is here. "Mel Brown is the bravest police chief in America," McDowell said with a throaty cough as he exhaled. Around his neck, a laminated card glinted in the hazy sunlight, a card that lets McDowell, 44, relax in a city park and fire up as officers stroll past. The police chief gave him the card, even snapped the Polaroid for it. A no-nonsense, straight-by-the-book kind of guy in sport coat and starchy white shirt, Brown commands a small-town police force with a big-city vision. "I kind of pride myself on taking risks," he said, parking his linebacker hulkiness behind his desk. In the palm of a beefy hand, he holds his latest risk: a picture identification card, saying the holder has a medical condition relieved by marijuana. "We're just trying to find local solutions to local problems," Brown said, offering a simple explanation for a notion that could reverberate statewide. Card-holders present them to police officers if caught with small amounts of marijuana, less than a half-ounce or no more than 10 plants. The card-holder avoids arrest and a trip to court to prove his or her medical condition. The city of Arcata saves the officer four hours of court duty. And for people like McDowell, their personal supply doesn't get confiscated and destroyed. McDowell is happy. Brown is satisfied. It's an unlikely alliance. Largely regarded as a legal land mine, Proposition 215 raised more questions than it answered after voters passed it in 1997: How much pot is reasonable for medical use? And what kinds of illnesses will it help? And the biggest quandary is how do medical users escape federal arrest since federal law doesn't permit medical use? A state task force drew together marijuana experts, medical and law enforcement representatives, including Brown, to ponder those issues, and is planning to propose a legal strategy within a month. New state laws might be necessary, though, or even another consideration by voters. Some kind of registration is one of the ideas being considered, said Terry Farmer, Humboldt County's district attorney, who also sits on the task force. Representatives of the state Department of Justice called Arcata's approach innovative, but held off on endorsing any ideas until the task force is finished. A city like Arcata can't wait for the lengthy decision-making process on something like this, city leaders realized last year. Like it or not, they know Humboldt County, along with neighboring Trinity and Mendocino counties, form the Emerald Triangle, named for the illicit, commercial marijuana growing in remote, lush regions. That reputation, along with a tradition of liberal sensibilities, primed Arcata for an immigration wave of Proposition 215 refugees, Brown said. He wanted to be ready. "We either had to try to partner with them to control it, or fight it," he said of medical marijuana users in town who have organized into a resource center. "It started kind of tenuous at first. They didn't trust us and we didn't trust them," Brown said. Few places in the state are better incubators for innovative ideas, unusual collaborations. Anchored by Humboldt State University, the town overlooking Humboldt Bay scatters along hillsides dotted with sky-scratching redwood trees. Grandly preserved Victorians rise next to distinctive bungalows. The town center, fanning from a park square, looks like a slice of Berkeley lifted and placed among uncluttered, scenic views. Shoppers can browse at Moonrise Herbs or pick up a $55 flowered shower curtain at Plaza Design, flip through menus and find tofu this or that, or pick a movie at two old-style downtown theaters running full tilt. Festivals for every kind of celebration imaginable seem drawn to Chief Brown's town, which is also the environmental battleground for controversial timber practices. He's arrested hordes of protesters, marshalled plenty of unruly revelers-vs.-citizens conflicts, including a parade of topless women. So the man who briefly distinguished himself by hauling in the largest albacore tuna from Humboldt Bay is unruffled by shifting gears on marijuana. "I don't agree with a lot of things, but I have to enforce it," he said of Proposition 215. After a trial run, Brown began issuing the cards last year. Residents bring in forms with medical recommendations from a doctor. After Brown confirms everything with the doctor, and he checks the physician's background, he issues a card with an expiration date. It's a hit. "I was truly astonished," said Debra Parry, who discovered new freedom when she moved to Arcata last year. She used pot for years to ease her ailments, but ran into the law in Arkansas where she lived before. She sat on a picnic blanket next to McDowell, her shoulders hunched over, making her seem older than her 46 years. A cane laid next to her legs, their outline lost in jeans that bagged around her limbs. For years arthritis has robbed her of free movement, and a bone marrow disease makes too much iron for her body. Her organs are rusting. "I would vomit for hours," she said. She took the pipe from McDowell and gingerly inhaled, closing her eyes. Several times a day, a pinch or two relieves the nausea and piques her appetite. "It relaxes my stomach immediately," she said, munching on a lone broccoli spear. A member of the local marijuana center, a resource group that works with Brown and helps people like Parry, she joined other members to picnic in a clearing of the city's huge Redwood Park. The nearness of police officers still gives her pause. "It just makes me edgy," she said, eyeing two officers patrolling the park. In spite of Brown's best efforts, her fear is not unfounded. She is breaking federal law, card or no card. And that remains a fact, said Brian Steel, spokesman for the U.S. Department of Justice. Recent interest in national health studies about medical marijuana and more states joining California's lead could eventually sway Congress differently, he conceded, and federal authorities have yet to arrest anyone like Parry or McDowell. But they could. Proposition 215 is no get-out-of-jail-free card in Arcata, either, Brown said. Except for the 100 or so card-holders in town, who abide by the rules otherwise, Brown is still in the busting business: "Marijuana is still against the law in Arcata." - --- MAP posted-by: Don Beck