13 July 6th–July 12th, 2023 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | cONTeNTs | feeDBacK | OPiNiON | NeWs | feaTuRe | NighT+Day | culTuRe | film | cafe | music | urrounded by thousands of cannabis plants in their massive Phoenix cultivation center and concentrate lab, Mike Anton and Jon Pilkington — co-owners and founders of TruMed and Drip — have come a long way. While recreational cannabis in Arizona became legal under Proposition 207 in 2020, the roots of marijuana consumption in the state sprouted almost three decades ago. In 1996, 65% of Arizonans approved Proposition 200, a measure that acknowledged the viability of treating debilitating illnesses such as multiple sclerosis, glaucoma, cancer and AIDS with Schedule I controlled substances, including cannabis. Wrapped within the proposition was a provision for proba- tionary sentences for non-violent offenders charged with the possession of controlled substances. “Pilot programs in Arizona that provide treatment alternatives to prison for low-level drug offenders have a 73% success rate and cost roughly one-eighth as much as prison,” the proposition description indicated. Just a few months after passing, faulty language in the bill and federal regula- tions against doctors issuing prescrip- tions for Schedule I drugs left the proposition defunct. Changes to the language of the legislation were insti- tuted, but Arizona voters shot the revi- sions down in 1998 and 2002. Although Proposition 200 left a lot to be desired in terms of making cannabis both safe to grow and consume, it was the humble beginning of the flourishing Arizona industry that raked in $1.4 billion last year. It was also the first glimmer of hope for future cultivators such as Anton and Pilkington. Healing hands When Pilkington and Anton first dipped their hands into growing cannabis, it was under the Medical Marijuana Caregiver Program. Established prior to full medical legalization in 2010, the program enabled independent growers to cultivate up to 12 cannabis plants for no more than five registered patients — for a total of 72 plants. However, vaguely written rules and a lack of enforcement hindered the program’s success. “There was a year-and-a-half period where no dispensaries [in Arizona] were issuing patient and caregiver cards, yet there was nowhere to get medicine,” Pilkington told Phoenix New Times. The result was what Pilkington calls a “pseudo market” when caregivers were cultivating cannabis free of charge to licensed patients. “Legally, we couldn’t sell cannabis to these patients. They could help offset the cost of growing by paying for lights or something, but they weren’t buying weed per se. It was an interesting market,” Pilkington said. The highly nuanced legality of the care- giver program meant that cultivators were fueled by a passion for helping chronically ill individuals, not by dreams of making a fortune. And even for those who followed the rules, it was still a risky endeavor. “Arizona was one of those states where it’s not just a slap on the wrist if you get caught with too much [cannabis] — you’re going to jail for a long time, even during the caregiver program,” Anton explained. “If you harvested 10 pounds [of flower], you were still only able to possess two- and-a-half ounces per patient, so you were out of compliance.” For highly successful growers such as Pilkington and Anton, the chances of being charged with noncompliance were high. “Sometimes the police would stop by before you dried the plants so they would be full of water and weigh more than the allotted ounces you could have. Or if they stopped by when you had just harvested and you didn’t cut the number of stalks in a pot, they could count it as more than one plant. It was crazy,” Anton said. Still, for Anton and Pilkington, the benefits outweighed the potential consequences. “To hear someone say that you made their life easier, or that they can do things they couldn’t do anymore because of the relief you’re giving them is why we do this. The ability to really change some- one’s life — now, that’s really something,” Pilkington said. ‘We saw an opportunity’ On Dec. 14, 2010, Proposition 203 — the Arizona Medical Marijuana Act — was adopted. The proposition replaced the caregiver program and established stead- fast rules for the cultivation, purchase and possession of medical cannabis. It was the big break Pilkington and Anton had been waiting for. Without hesi- tation, they used the existing zoning rules to find locations for a grow and dispensary, ponied up $150,000 and submitted an application for a medicinal license lottery. Proposition 203 allowed just 124 dispen- sary licenses to be issued statewide, so it would take luck to land one. “I don’t think a lot of people knew what to do for the first lottery. Some applications listed buildings that wouldn’t pass zoning. If they were selected, they would have gotten the license, and we would have missed out, even though we had everything 100% to the letter of the law. It definitely wasn’t guaranteed,” Anton said. Obtaining a license may not have been guaranteed, but it very may well have been predestined. By the time Proposition 203 passed, Pilkington and Anton already had a loyal following and earned a reputation as top- tier flower producers. “[Pilkington and Anton] spent a year and a half under the caregiver program really polishing their craft and getting more involved with genetics. It made for a super smooth transition into former TruMed when they were awarded a license,” said Alex Sternheim, TruMed’s wholesale director. “THE ABILITY TO REALLY CHANGE SOMEONE’S LIFE – NOW, THAT’S REALLY SOMETHING.” OHara Shipe TruMed co-owner and founder Jon Pilkington has a love of designer brands and cultivating boutique cannabis. A look inside the flower that powers Drip, a prominent cannabis concentrate lab in the Valley. OHara Shipe Freshly filled concentrate jars wait to be placed in external packaging. >> p 15
