“He genuinely wanted to leave as big of an impact on peoples’ lives around the world with what he had,” said Don Hendley, the founder of Wine to Water. “And it’s just really refreshing to meet people like that.” Kesselman has also given more than $3 million to other nonprofit organizations, according to data provided to New Times. That included the Last Prisoner Project, which advocates for cannabis reform. In Phoenix, he donated $25,000 to the Valley homelessness organization Central Arizona Shelter Services. Leslie Zschokke, a CASS employee who works with donors, said Kesselman “has such a big heart.” It was on behalf of CASS, Kesselman said, that he pissed off Phoenix Mayor Kate Gallego. Kesselman said Gallego “flipped out” on him when he suggested that CASS be given the use of an old St. Luke’s facility that Gallego wanted to give to a developer. “She just lost it, like lost it,” Kesselman said. “I got like five apology calls from her afterward.” When reached by New Times, a spokes- person for Gallego offered only this state- ment on the record: “Mayor Gallego is pleased that the city has recognized Josh for his work on employing diverse popula- tions, including people with disabilities.” A day after New Times contacted the mayor’s office, though Kesselman sent an email walking back many of his comments. “It’s inaccurate to say that she ‘flipped out on me’ or that ‘she just lost it, like lost it.’ It’s also inaccurate to say that I got ‘like 5 apology calls afterwards,’” Kesselman wrote. “Gallego did not talk to me about giving (the property) to a developer.” He added that while he is a staunch supporter of CASS, he was not officially lobbying on its behalf. In messages texted to New Times before his clarification email, he expressed concern that his Gallego comments would harm his relationship with the mayor and negatively affect RAW. “We’ve worked so hard to build up this business and this incredible life,” Kesselman wrote in a text, “and I hope you aren’t going to hurt it.” Succession questions The publication of Kate Gallego anecdotes notwithstanding, it’s the future of his business that seems to occupy Kesselman’s life the most these days. Securing the ultimate payout is not Kesselman’s goal. He is deeply skeptical of megacorporations and doubts the narrative, instilled in him decades ago by his grandfather, that unfet- tered capitalism necessitates innovation. “What we run into instead is corruption — extreme corruption,” Kesselman said. Instead of making a better product, big corporations often just make cheaper products, resort to predatory practices or simply try to drive competitors out of busi- ness. “This capitalism thing ain’t working,” he said. “The way our society is going right now — it’s not the right direction. We need new ideas, we need a different way of thinking.” The extent to which that viewpoint is surprising probably depends on how much emphasis anyone puts on the “weed” and “business” aspects of the weed business. He’s aimed to create the best possible prod- ucts for his customers — and undoubtedly, to have fun and enjoy life while doing it. “We’re trying to compete with ourselves,” he said. “People should live a life that they truly enjoy instead of trying to be the next Elon Musk.” Kesselman said he’s dealt with Musk and wasn’t impressed. The two met when the now-billionaire Musk was first creating electric cars. Enthralled by environmen- talism, Kesselman ordered a custom Tesla before the two met. After the two talked, Kesselman canceled his order. Kesselman said Musk revealed that the new car would be flown from its factory in England to California on a 747 jet, using more carbon in the process “than I would have used if I bought a Hummer and drove it for eight years.” When Kesselman suggested that the cars be shipped by boat instead, he said Musk replied that “he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the environ- ment or about humans.” “It was so cold,” Kesselman said. “Clearly, it was a means to an end.” Kesselman is not particularly ideolog- ical and describes himself as “apolitical,” though Federal Elections Commission data shows he has donated more than $50,000 to Democratic politicians in Arizona. He said when donating, his focus has been on giving to candidates who align with him on cannabis policy. During an interview at his warehouse earlier this year, he bashed President Donald Trump’s tariffs and the idea of “making America great” while trying to move all manufacturing back to the United States. “With these tariffs, you can’t make cool shit,” Kesselman said. Making cool shit is what he cares about, Kesselman said, which is why he purchased the legendary counterculture magazine High Times for $3.5 million in June. Kesselman is currently in the process of laying out a vision for the magazine and writing mission statements. He’s already enlisted Forbes senior contributor Javier Hasse to serve as editor-in-chief. He got High Times for a steal — in 2017, the paper was sold for around $70 million — but says he’s not interested in trying to profit off of it. He wants to revive its cultural relevance. “I’m not buying it for business,” he said. “I want to bring it back. It’s about commu- nity. It’s all going to come back to that one word. High Times was never about making money — it was always a hippie rag.” He wants to secure the future of RAW with a similar ethos. His preference would be to bequeath the business to his daughter, Coco, who is a rising junior at Arizona State University. But Coco — who, through her father, declined to be interviewed — is more about politics than weed, he said. If she doesn’t “catch the bug,” Kesselman is unsure about handing off the keys to anyone else. Two alternatives remain: sell the company or take it public. He doesn’t like either. “I can’t bring the company public in a traditional fashion, because the same people we hate are the same ones who will own it,” he said. As for unloading for what he says would be “more money than I could realistically spend in multiple life- times” — Kesselman is hesitant to throw out a dollar figure — he said he “didn’t do all of this to get that big check.” In a perfect world, RAW’s most dedi- cated customers would be able to purchase some equity in the company they’ve so loyally supported. He floated such an arrangement in an interview with MarketWatch last year, but told New Times that he’s yet to find a banker who could figure out how to do it. He’s not counting on such an arrangement coming to pass. Perhaps, in keeping with his Willy Wonka reputation, he could hide golden tickets inside packages of RAW papers. (Sound far-fetched? He’s already held golden ticket social media contests and brought fans to tour the RAW factory in Spain.) Someone has to inherit the kingdom, so why not a contest to vet a successor? Except, of course, no kids and no murderous child comeuppances. Maybe singing orange men, depending on what you’re smoking. Someone’s got to take it, though. Still firmly in middle age, Kesselman has time to figure that out. His zeal for weed and RAW is undiminished. His weed celebrity star hasn’t dimmed a single lumen. He still dresses and sometimes acts like he’s still in his 20s. There’s plenty more hits in his joint; no need to hand it off just yet. But that time will come. “All you can do is be the best link in the chain,” he said. “There were so many before me. There’s going to be so many after me.” Puff, Puff ... Pass? from p 11 RAW founder Josh Kesselman puts a pound of marijuana into a grinder in preparation for rolling a 3-foot-long joint. (TJ L’Heureux)
