The cannabis legalization movement is rooted in empathic activism, a lot of which started in the Bay Area. Dennis Peron established the Cannabis Buyers Club in the 1970s, and that work has been carried on by younger generations. One member of that fight is ready to pass the torch.
Terrance Alan celebrated the opening of Castro District Flore Dispensary in 2021. The road to get there was not always a party. He cared for a loved one through the HIV/AIDs pandemic, survived more than one questionable arrest, and changed his surroundings with political engagement. This life well lived has culminated at Flore Dispensary, where sun-grown cannabis reigns, and hopes for cannabis cafes will never die.
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In a recent interview with GreenState, Alan shared the harrowing and exciting experiences that got him here. He also hopes sharing his story will attract a handful of people ready to take on the next leg of cannabis normalization.
“I’m at the stage where I would like to empower young activists,” Alan declared. “I’m not the activist anymore. I am the Dennis Peron knocking on your door, teaching you to be an activist.”
From covert cultivator to outspoken activist
The legacy dispensary owner grew medical cannabis for his HIV+ partner in the 1990s before there was HIV prevention medication or treatment. Around this time, Alan and many others hung out at Cafe Flore.
“Cafe Flore was a stop on the underground railway line for experimental HIV drugs, and my husband and I would go and hang out,” Alan explained. “And certain people would come around, and we would learn about this, that, and the other thing. Of course, nothing worked, but at least we generated a little bit of hope every time we tried something.”
Cannabis provided some relief to those around him who were struggling for relief. He was among the first wave of indoor growers dialing in lighting, temperatures, and other new-at-the-time problems. With work, he set up small cultivations around the city for other AIDs patients, including one at their home.
One night, the couple woke up to SWAT at the door of their warehouse domicile in search of his grow room. He was arrested in possession of 120 plants in their vegetative state. According to Alan, he was also accused of being a part of “Dennis Peron’s gay weed mafia.” Though he had no idea what they were talking about, he was soon to learn all about it.
The following morning, Dennis Peron knocked on Alan’s door, took his hand, and fitted him for the boots of a cannabis activist. The Buyers Club founder and father of medical pot welcomed him to the gay weed mafia with a trip to City Hall. He introduced Alan to changemakers and showed him the ropes. This was a few years before Peron authored Proposition 215, legalizing medical cannabis in the state.
They walked City Hall together, Peron giving Alan a step-by-step introduction to how San Francisco politics worked. The visit was impactful, but not what finally activated him.
“Being around Dennis, you learned that you were either part of the solution or part of the problem,” Alan said.
At that point, Alan knew he wanted to be a part of the solution but did not understand how.
“For all the freaks, queers, and pot users”
After many years, his life partner lost his fight to AIDs. At one point, Alan recalls losing 100 friends to the virus in one week.
“It was happening every day, all the time,” he remembered.
The community often held Celebration of Life parties in response to their devastating circumstances. They would send someone off by remembering their lives and accomplishments together. He began holding these parties at his warehouse in honor of his love, complete with a psychedelic trance. They were well attended.
Eventually, Alan had the opportunity to upsize from his 1,000 square foot (sq ft) warehouse to a 42,000 sq ft former commercial laundromat–and he took it. Flash to New Year’s Eve, 1995, tens of thousands of people are expected to attend a seven-stage extravaganza at the San Francisco waterfront.
Alan threw The Other New Year’s Ball “for all the freaks, queers, and pot users that were my friends.”
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He tried to get a permit for the event but was told there was no need because he was not selling booze. About 5000 people showed up for the alcohol-free event. The police drove by several times, and Alan stood at the door in case they had any questions. He finally closed up at 4 am.
As he remembers it, 150 police officers busted in at 4:05, and they were pissed off. The word was that they were heading home when a sergeant ordered the fleet back out to bust one more party.
“They were not happy. And they showed their unhappiness by taking my drag queen, transgender, and differently attired guests who were at my event and showing them off by making fun of them in front of the other police officers,” said Alan.
They arrested 28 people that night and threw them into the drunk tank. None knew why they were in jail since they arrived sober from an alcohol-free event. This was the first time that he felt wronged by the city of San Francisco.
According to Alan, the night he was arrested, a politician threw a party in the Pacific Heights neighborhood with no permit and six cop cars as free protection. A stark difference to his experience.
“It was that event and that moment that cemented me as an activist. Not meeting Dennis, and not cannabis,” he said. “But it was being wronged by the very city that I had moved to, that had really loved me and taken care of me up until now, and now I was in a confrontation with them over a memorial for my husband who just died.”
Persecution brews political action
The New Year’s raid inspired Alan to form the San Francisco Late Night Coalition. The group attracted others in the event community who had experienced selective enforcement from the police. Each event planner shared the experience of being told they needed a permit to throw their party, only to be informed by the city that no such permit existed. They were sent around in circles to nowhere, which aggravated people enough to use their voting power for change.
Alan explained that the Coalition was instrumental in getting Mark Leno reelected to the Board of Supervisors and the group used that power after his victory. Leno sponsored legislation to overhaul the San Francisco entertainment, nightlife, and street fairs permitting system. That is how the San Francisco Entertainment Commission was formed in 2003. Alan served as Commission President for two years, and it is now a crucial city regulatory body.
This was his first political engagement, and the next came after a cannabis legalization ballot initiative failed to pass in 2010. A rumor went around that a new legalization push was in the works. Alan got involved, touring Northern California, Mendocino, Sonoma, and all legacy farmers fueling the Prop 215 gray market, listening to and addressing their worries about the initiative.
In the meantime, the government wanted to prepare the city for legalization, establishing the San Francisco State Cannabis Legalization Task Force. Alan chaired this Task Force until the day Prop 64 was implemented.
These decades of boots-on-the-ground policy work culminate at Flore Dispensary. In the doors of that well-appointed retail space, legacy farmers are cherished, and the foundation is in place for banging parties–if they are ever allowed.
Giving Flore Dispensary their flowers
Flore Dispensary sits across the street from Castro District restaurant Fisch and Flore, formerly Cafe Flore, and, for a short time, Flore. Alan and restaurateur Aaron Silverman announced plans to turn the beloved building into America’s first casual cannabis cafe in 2017.
This would not be a dark lounge where people hotbox and leave, but a destination to sit and visit with friends who would not mind people having a joint on the patio while chatting. The reality is that many restaurants in San Francisco have quietly allowed this for years. Alan believes it should be explicitly allowed. Seeing how police operate within a gray area may have taught him that permits equal protection.
When this vision proved impossible, Alan acquired a cannabis dispensary license across a side street from the restaurant in hopes that the new policy would eventually allow him to marry the businesses. In 2020, pandemic-related challenges forced them to sell Flore, and Alan focused solely on the cannabis dispensary and lodging.
Flore Dispensary, founded by Alan in 2021, is right off Market Street in the heart of the Castro district. A cannabis-friendly vacation rental sits on top of the weed store. Those who visit the great city can book a stay at the central location, complete with a terrace, to safely try their weed products.
The shop showcases small, legacy farmers cultivating sun-grown, mixed light, and indoor-grown products.
“Many people who smoke mixed light and outdoor feel a more well-rounded cannabis experience. There’s something in sunlight that can’t be reproduced by LEDs in a closed room,” Alan said. “And that’s something that can be magic for certain cannabis strains.
This buying method has its benefits on top of positive consumer feedback. They have not seen one recall in light of the recent vape news. Championing these brands protects the Emerald Triangle cannabis culture legacy.
“The deck is stacked against the small operator, the small farmer, and the legacy farmer,” Alan urged. “The consumers’ most important tool is their dollars. If they do not spend their dollars at stores on products that are well grown, well packaged, and well presented, then that part of the industry will not survive.”
Even today, Alan continues seeking his role as part of the solution and hopes others will, too.
Cannabis culture sits on the back of many patient-led movements. Terrance Alan was a part of one and continued the legacy of building an informed, compassionate cannabis store. He hopes to pass the bouquet to the next generation as the state fights for social consumption, home grow rights, and, legalization, continue.
