Big Weed by Christian Hageseth

they regarded as undesirables—whether they were Mexicans, African Americans, or hippies. If marijuana had no medical use, then the burgeoning medical lobby could neatly eradicate acheap folk medicine from the American pharmacopoeia, paving the way for costly, lab-designed drugs. Media moguls such as William Randolph Hearst had a demon drug that would sell newspapers. And industry titans such as John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Mellon, and a host of other industrial manufacturers of the world could effectively wipe out hemp products—natural rope, fuel, fibers—from the American marketplace, leaving a void that would be taken over by products that could be sourced from their own petroleum-based products: nylon, gasoline, and oil. Huge lumber companies would provide wood from old-growth forests to create the kinds of products that the more sustainable plant, hemp, had once been used to manufacture.
    This is the dark side of the anti-marijuana story. You’ll find it all in the history books, if you know where to look, but to breathe it today in mixed political company is enough to get you branded as a conspiracy theorist, or worse.

    My tutelage in the world of marijuana has never ended, and I learn more every day. The more I learned, I could see, too, that the business was promising but in dire need of optimization.
    One thing I noticed right away was that most of the growers and dispensary owners I was meeting were marijuana lovers first and businesspeople second. This is highly typical in almost any small business. People think, “I like making leather goods—I’ll open a leather shop.” “I like books—I’ll open a bookshop.” “I’m a foodie with capital—let me open the restaurant of my dreams.”
    And yeah, you can do that, but 50 percent of all businesses fail in the first two years, if not sooner, usually because the owner has enthusiasm and expertise in one area alone—and it’s not making money.
    Unfortunately, I was meeting many people who believed that all they had to do to make a killing in cannabis was rent a storefront, putout a bunch of glass jars full of weed, and start hawking their wares to their friends.
    To quote one: “All you need is a table and a bucket to sell weed.”
    Some of these newcomers were rich kids who had the family money to set themselves up in a shop. Some were street dealers who were looking to go legit after a lifetime of criminal activity. Some had such a bare-bones approach to business that they leaped into the industry with nothing more than $10,000 in cash, a cheap sign, and a table.
    What they lacked was the vision to see what this industry would become in the long term: America’s newest consumer product. Its packaging, marketing, the public’s perception, and its brand would all impact one’s success.
    Some people saw it, but most did not. Aside from the pang of munchies, they weren’t all that hungry to grow to the next level. They weren’t setting up their businesses efficiently. And they lacked a competitive drive.
    As much as I enjoy marijuana, I love creating even more. Creating the vision I saw in my mind’s eye would become an adventure from which I could not extricate myself. I didn’t want to; I was falling in love.
    I was also beginning to understand that growing marijuana was labor-intensive and costly. Nearly all marijuana in the United States—legal or otherwise—is grown indoors. (There are a few notable exceptions, such as California’s Golden Triangle.) The early hippies grew indoors to evade the authorities, so the current wisdom on the subject is that marijuana is best grown indoors because you can control its environment and inputs. That’s why it costs commercial growers like Jake as much as it does to grow one pound of usable marijuana.
    Early on, as I went around town I was occasionally invited to visit other people’s indoor