6 JANUARY 11-17, 2024 westword.com WESTWORD | MUSIC | CAFE | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | NEWS | LETTERS | CONTENTS | win. It’s a tough scene, and I don’t think it’s going to get any easier.” When the fi rst licensed recreational mari- juana sale in American history took place at a Denver dispensary on January 1, 2014, Colorado’s cannabis industry was looking at a bright future. Sean Azzariti, the legal- ization activist and ex-Marine who made the purchase, remembers the chaos fondly. “I don’t even know if I could wrap my head around it all. It was such a new thing back then. Having been in the medical marijuana industry a couple of years before it went recreational, it only seemed like it was going to continue to grow and that everyone in this industry was going to fl ourish,” recalls Azzariti, now a cannabis lab chemist. “It seemed like the only way to go was up.” The dispensary at which Azzariti made the highly pub- licized purchase, 3D Cannabis, has since been sold and re- branded twice. The current owner is JARS Cannabis, a multi-state dispensary chain based in Michigan. When JARS purchased the dispen- sary from the previous owner, Eufl ora, the Michigan opera- tion also gained control over Denver’s annual 4/20 festival in Civic Center Park. Azzariti, who now conducts various post- production tests on commercial marijuana, says he is thankful to work in the cannabis space and that “living in Denver is still great.” But he believes that the “quality has tanked” in Colorado marijuana cultivation, and that the state’s cannabis culture has been diluted as recreational legalization spreads across the country. “It happened quick. Colorado was genu- inely a boom town for ten years. You can kind of see now that it has become a race to the bot- tom,” he bemoans. “One thing that really bums me out is that you really don’t see any of the mom-and-pop dispensaries around anymore. There were so many dispensaries that were family owned fi ve or six years ago. Now when you look around, you see more dispensaries, but it’s a lot of the same store signs.” Marijuana business consolidation ramped up in Colorado following the loosen- ing of state fi nancial and ownership restric- tions in 2019. A market downturn was likely, suggests longtime activist Mason Tvert — but then came the COVID-19 pandemic. Tvert, a campaign organizer and one of the main proponents of Amendment 64, the legalization measure passed by voters in 2012, is now a partner at cannabis policy consultant fi rm VS Strategies. “It’s been a unique period of time for all businesses, especially cannabis businesses,” he says. “Infl ation, COVID-19 and staffi ng have all created real issues, so I’m not terribly surprised with how it’s played out. Anyone who’s looking at this industry should be wary of the potential for dramatic changes. With something this new and varied around the country, there are a lot of people who just want to open a marijuana store because it’s exciting, fun or unique. As people were doing that, though, we sort of realized that ten years from now they would be owning a liquor store, but with more rules.” On the verge of a market dip in 2020, Col- orado’s marijuana industry was instead lifted by unanticipated dispensary traffi c during the pandemic. Average wholesale prices for a pound of marijuana reached nearly $1,800 in 2022, according to the state Department of Revenue, while dispensary sales broke $2.2 billion that year. Most Colorado growers expanded in light of the record-breaking numbers, and new operators planted seeds in hopes of making gold from green. Kaiser was one of those new operators, though he didn’t consider himself one of the big-dreaming potrepreneurs that Colorado used to attract in droves. An Illinois native, Kaiser had started growing cannabis as a hobby before pursuing his passion in Colora- do’s legal arena. After looking around the state for a place to build his cultivation, he settled on Ordway in 2020, building a 12,000-square- foot indoor facility right off Maverick Lane. He named his company Bubba’s Kush after his blue-nosed pit bull terrier, Bubba, who’s stayed by Kaiser’s side from the days when his hobby was a bit more underground to the long nights he now spends tending to the grow. “There isn’t a whole lot of magic to the growing part of it: just following the whole ‘cleanliness is godliness’ thing. I also don’t have kids, so when shit hits the fan, I’m often here until 10 at night,” Kaiser says. “But I came into this during the worst possible market, so I’ve had to work hard to make this happen. I’m not some business visionary; I’m a grower. Words are not what I’m used to working with.” Even so, Kaiser has ventured out into Crowley County to meet his neighbors and local county commissioners; he’s even spo- ken at state regulatory hearings over the past year, keeping track of topics such as new grower regulations and licensing fees. He’s participating in seminars to help new commercial growers and expanding into extraction partnerships, a common step for rising stars in cultivation. Because growing good weed isn’t enough anymore. Amendment 64 gave local governments the choice of opting into commercial mari- juana. Ordway and Crowley County took the plunge in 2016. Developers looking to cash in on the surg- ing pot industry started eying the Maverick Lane industrial area, which spans several thousand acres in Ordway and unincorpo- rated Crowley County. Greenhouses, ware- houses and outdoor marijuana farms began sprouting up within the year. Plots of land sold at a steady pace, many of them devel- oped by Crowley County Improvements LLC and Dean Hiatt. The pandemic boosted business — but then came the drop. “It was pretty fast. The biggest spike was during COVID. But just as soon it all hap- pened, we starting seeing the closures,” says Crowley County Commissioner Roy Elliott. “We all get a little greedy now and then, and this time it kind of bit us in the butt.” Even with the industry recession, how- ever, Elliott estimates that Crowley County has made around $5 million from cannabis taxes and licensing fees; that revenue has gone to new trucks for the sheriff’s depart- ment and investments in the Crowley County Heritage Center museum and banquet hall. It’s also allowed the county to increase staff salaries and pad the county’s reserve fund. Elliott and his fellow commissioners are now exploring other businesses that could po- tentially move into the abandoned marijuana operations, and they’ve reached out to the MED to see if statewide marijuana licensing restrictions could be implemented to help increase the price of wholesale marijuana. “There are a ton of options we’ve looked at, but there is very little you can put in these greenhouses and hoop houses, because most agricultural products can’t keep up with the costs. These are multimillion-dollar facilities. Maybe a few could be turned into warehouse manufacturers,” Elliott explains. “So far, though, the marijuana industry has been helpful to the county. Those guys are still out here working and paying taxes, and they need to get their gas from somewhere. It’s still helpful — not as much as it used to be, but still helpful.” Hiatt has been hit with multiple law- suits, including one from Crowley County Improvements, over claims of bogus land sales and misleading High and Dry continued from page 5 continued on page 8 Colorado’s fi rst legal recreational pot sale (left) takes place in Denver on January 1, 2014; Mason Tvert (bottom) helped usher in legal cannabis; Chris Kaiser named his growing operation Bubba’s Kush after his dog, Bubba. BRANDON MARSHALL COURTESY OF VS STRATEGIES THOMAS MITCHELL
