Читать книгу Craig Lee's Kentucky Hemp Story - Joe Domino - Страница 12

I was kicking it in Key West with a few buddies during the summer of 1993. Sippin’ brews on the beach was the agenda. The only 6:00 o’clock appointment we had was to say farewell to the day at Sunset Pier. A place that’s as spectacular as it sounds. People from around the world converge to patron vendors, browse shops, and watch street performers. At the optimal moment, families and couples posed against another horizon radiating backdrop.

The rule of thumb amongst the boys was that no Key West trip was complete without visiting Sunset Pier’s famous head shop: The Environmental Circus. The Circus was a top-notch head shop with an unlimited stock of the usual fare: incense, blunt wraps, glass pipes, tie-dyes, and band posters. After wandering for a few minutes, I discovered my friends had already abandoned me. I didn’t mind getting lost. I’ve always been a little more inquisitive than the rest. I was engulfed by the Circus’ eccentric goods. My curious eyes wandered. My gaze gravitated to a table with folded shirts. Blank blue shirts that had a natural look and feel. They were modest, plain, and rougher than the motley tie-dyes begging for my attention.

Mindlessly, I handled the price tag and—to my surprise—the tag read fifty dollars! I couldn’t be seeing correctly. For a t-shirt!? Irritated, I further examined the tag for substantial claims: 45% HEMP and 55% ORGANIC COTTON. The word “HEMP” blared out to me. My vague familiarity with this word had everything to do with my elected position as the Marion County Democratic Chairman. I knew about hemp cultivation from Marion County’s historical records. I was also aware of old Kentuckian laws that made hemp clothes, and other hemp goods, illegal. The strictest interpreter of the law could arrest someone for wearing a hemp hat. But how were these laws enforceable? I could only imagine the scene: a police officer arresting a non-violent citizen for wearing an illicit t-shirt.

As if under a catatonic spell, I completely forgot my grubby fingers were ensnaring hemp fabric. I must’ve looked pretty stupid manhandling a t-shirt I couldn’t afford. My blank stare connected with the sales clerk. He was visibly annoyed; he was hissing at me to snap out of it. Somehow, I uttered words, “Isn’t this hemp t-shirt illegal?” The clerk spoke with eyes only, “You gotta be kidding me, dude.” He laughed to ease the tension, but his efforts backfired. Like spontaneous combustion, the clerk’s laugh ignited a spark inside my head. I was experiencing a eureka moment; I dropped the tee on the floor and raised my hands in triumph. My mind entered a wormhole of possibilities.

Back in Kentucky, a company called American Sewing Technology was hauling their t-shirt manufacturing operations to China. A lot of outsourcing was happening during the 90s. Being the Marion County Democratic Chairman, my duty was to prevent those jobs from leaving or to replace them. The tools at my disposal were sparse. Yet, this hemp t-shirt propositioned itself as an attractive new angle. Could Marion County’s hemp history reinvent itself in the modern era? Could hemp, a new commodity, reinvigorate our local economy? Overcome with cosmic excitement, I ran in place while trampling fabric beneath my feet. I was abruptly brought back to reality by the butt-end of the clerk’s broom handle. Ouch! He wasn’t amused by my natural tie-dyeing efforts.

For the rest of my Key West trip, one thought kidnapped my mind: industrial hemp had the potential to replace Kentucky’s stolen industries. I foresaw hemp empowering Kentuckians throughout all stages of the supply chain: to the farmer, to the processor, to the manufacturer, to the distributor, to the retailer, and even to the recycler. My epiphany made the impossible seem achievable. These were the humble beginnings of a hemp advocate. As if in a trance, I roamed the sunset vistas absorbed by an unfolding vision more beautiful than any Key West horizon. Could hemp save the world?

The next few days melted away and I found myself back in Kentucky. I felt compelled to do something immediately, yet I was unsure how to proceed. How could I, a mere party county chairman, get hemp rolling to rejuvenate Kentucky’s economy? To my surprise, my subliminal wishes began to manifest. Soon after the Key West trip, things began falling into place like I never thought possible.