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Wayne's Whirl

Fred Gardner

San Francisco, CA Jan 26, 2005 -- Dennis Peron, the founder of the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Club, has a job offer in Dartmouth, England. It comes from George San Martin, who in the late '70s worked at the Big Top, a marijuana dispensary run out of Dennis's Castro Street flat.

It was a place you could come to, hang out and try
Gold in the old days, Colombian, Thai

Dennis had the top floor of a three-story Victorian. The front room had big bay windows with lace curtains that let in the light from the West. People sat on Indian pillows from Cost Plus. The phonograph was always on. Houseplants -ferns, coleuses, potted palms, spider plants hung down from the ceiling. On the floor - a beautiful rug from the Orient- marijuana of all kinds was piled in oblong wooden bowls with pre-rolled joints for sampling.

Castro off Liberty one night in July
With Eyewitness News just happening by (sure)
Ten cops got nothing better to do
Than bust Dennis Peron and his pot-smoking crew

George was small and wiry, with olive skin and thick, thick black hair, which he wore long. He moved to England at the end of the '70s and put his past encounters with law enforcement to good use. A lawyer hired him to instruct newly arrested clients on their rights and how to behave in custody. This turned out to be a much-needed specialty and George created a business of his own and did well enough to buy an old hotel in Dartmouth, a beach town in the southwest of England where the weather is relatively mild. Dennis is going to make an exploratory visit in February. If he likes the scene, he'll move there in June and devote himself to breathing new life into ye olde Agincourt House. "Built in the 13th century and restored in the 16th century," says the prospective manager.

How likely is it that Dennis will wind up in England? His dog, Pinky Lee, already has had a chip implanted (proof of a rabies shot, a requirement for bringing a dog into the UK). In recent years Dennis turned his house on 17th Street into a B&B of sorts, renting out rooms (via Craig's list) for $60 a night. Are you surprised to learn that his vow of poverty was for real? (A San Francisco cop once told me, as if he really knew, "Your friend Peron has a million dollars buried in a hole in Mexico." I said, "I sure hope so.")

Dennis gave us the update at Club Cocomo, which was filled Sunday night by more than 300 people celebrating Wayne Justman¹s 60th b-day. Wayne's friends include the poor and the powerless as well as the pols. Everybody had come to have a good time. Nobody was selling anything. Nobody was there as a customer or a clerk. There was gaiety in the air, and mutual respect based on collective political accomplishment. It's so rare that the class divisions seem to break down, even for a minute, and it sure feels good when they do.

Three cannabis club proprietors and a cultivator had picked up the tab. Party planner Michael Ramos had made all the arrangements, and Rush and family of Club Cocomo had donated everything but the drinks. "Wayne has done so much for the movement," one of the organizers explained, "and he's never been in it for the money. When I first moved here three years ago he trusted me and made me feel needed and introduced me to people... He's just a great friend and fun to be with."

Wayne's contributions to the movement/industry include security at Dennis's Market Street club; creation of the Patients Resource Center at 350 Divisadero (urgently needed when Dennis was forced to close); campaign work for Terence Hallinan and other pro-cannabis politicians; mediating internal disputes and making useful connections; effective lobbying at City Hall for a medical marijuana card program run by the Dept. of Public Health, and now Prop S to involve the city in cultivation and/or distribution... About five years ago Wayne made a serious effort to organize club proprietors, growers, and patient advocates into a political action group. His "consortium" never coalesced, but the monthly meetings Wayne and Randi Webster held at 350 Divisadero fostered a sense of community and enabled people to keep abreast of legal and political developments.

Wayne learned about politics from some hoods who employed him as a bodyguard back in Cicero, Illinois. He's a name-dropper and a back-slapper but he does it like he's playing a part. He's a big man, maybe 6'3, 225, calm and friendly, like Alex Karras in Victor Victoria. Wayne was diagnosed positive in 1988 and here it is 2005 and he looks hale and hearty. The epidemic isn't killing people overnight anymore. What a good reason for a party.

Dennis had a long conversation with Ross Mirkarimi, the new supervisor from the Haight/Inner Sunset. "The next Harvey Milk if he does what he says he's gonna do," said Dennis. For many years Mirkarimi has done political work in the supportive role (rather than the leadership role). He ran campaigns for Terence Hallinan and Ralph Nader (2000 in California) and Bruce Bruggmann (public power) and Matt Gonzalez, and made his living as an investigator for the DA's office. Last year Gonzalez chose not to seek another term. Mirkarimi ran as a Green and won big. He was always a hard-working, devoted lieutenant, but one senses that he is delighted to be in charge of the office at last, his own man.

State Sen. Mark Leno presented Wayne with a certificate of recognition. The entertainment included a terrific rap act, "Los Marijuanos..." When the Field Manager of Americans for Safe Access took the stage to do a striptease, Grampa Fred said his goodnights.