XPost: alt.politics.marijuana, alt.fan.rush-limbaugh, talk.politics.guns   
   XPost: sac.politics, alt.society.liberalism   
   From: yourdime@outlook.com   
      
   DENVER — On Jan. 1, 2014, Iraq War veteran Sean Azzariti made headlines   
   worldwide as the first person in the U.S. to buy legal weed.   
      
   More than 10 years later, 3D Cannabis, the dispensary in Denver’s Elyria-   
   Swansea neighborhood where the historic purchase was made, displays a   
   makeshift sign announcing it is “temporarily closed.” The windows and   
   doors on the side of the building have been boarded up. Plastic bags,   
   discarded coffee cups and other trash collect in the corners of the   
   abandoned parking lot.   
      
   The dismal state of the historic site is a fitting symbol of the plight of   
   Colorado’s cannabis market. What once was a success story has now left a   
   trail of failed businesses and cash-strapped entrepreneurs in its wake.   
   Regulatory burdens, an oversaturated market and increasing competition   
   from nearby states have all landed major blows, leaving other states with   
   newer marijuana markets scrambling to avoid the same mistakes.   
      
   For years, Colorado’s marijuana market minted successful local   
   entrepreneurs who bootstrapped small businesses into national brands. The   
   market drew aspiring cannabis professionals from across the country,   
   whether ambitious college grads with a business idea or investors looking   
   to get in on the green rush.   
      
      
   In 2020, the market soared to $2.2 billion. But just three years later,   
   sales had plummeted to $1.5 billion, leading to layoffs, closures and   
   downsizing. The market downturn has spelled trouble for state finances   
   too: Colorado took in just $282 million in cannabis tax revenues in the   
   last fiscal year, down more than 30 percent from two years earlier.   
      
   A messy assortment of factors has led to the pioneering industry’s   
   struggles. A supply glut caused weed prices to plummet in the wake of the   
   pandemic. The spread of cheap, largely unregulated intoxicating hemp-   
   derived products further heightened competitive pressures. And marijuana   
   remains federally illegal, subjecting operators to sky-high taxes and   
   costly regulations.   
      
   “It’s like the wind in our cannabis sails in Colorado has just been sucked   
   all the way out,” said Wanda James, founder of Denver dispensary Simply   
   Pure, one of the first recreational dispensaries in the state.   
      
   But more than any other factor, Colorado’s market has been sapped by the   
   rapid spread of legalization across the country. Neighbors New Mexico and   
   Arizona are among the 24 states with their own adult-use legal marijuana   
   markets, wreaking havoc on the business plans of dispensaries on   
   Colorado’s southern border. Tourists who once flooded the state for the   
   opportunity to legally experience Rocky Mountain highs have largely   
   disappeared as the novelty has worn off. Even Texans aren’t driving north   
   to buy weed anymore, satisfied with the proliferation of intoxicating hemp   
   products in their own state.   
      
   Colorado’s trailblazing cannabis market is now a cautionary tale for   
   states with their own nascent weed programs. A top New York cannabis   
   official recently pointed to Colorado’s dramatic marijuana market downturn   
   to justify regulators’ hesitance to issue too many licenses at once.   
      
   “We’re a victim of our own success,” said Jordan Wellington, a partner at   
   Denver-based cannabis policy and public affairs firm Strategies 64. “New   
   markets drawing investment away, new markets drawing purchasing away — all   
   of these different things combined into the soup of the challenges   
   [facing] Colorado.”   
      
   Afew dispensary owners in the Mile High City have clung on through the   
   market’s rise and fall.   
      
   Greg Gamet, 52, started Dank under the state’s medical marijuana caregiver   
   program in 2009 with $6,000. Like many entrepreneurs who got into the   
   industry in the early days, Gamet did it for the love of the plant. He was   
   already operating as a medical marijuana caregiver, growing weed in his   
   basement, which perfumed his entire house.   
      
   When his wife got pregnant, she told him in no uncertain terms to get his   
   grow out of their basement. “Her ballbusting got me to this commercial   
   space,” he says.   
      
   Dank is located in an industrial area of Denver’s Park Hill neighborhood.   
   Cannabis consumers have to walk down a long hallway, past an auto shop and   
   an upholstery business, to reach the dispensary at the back of the   
   building. Posters of Bob Marley and botanical cannabis plants decorate the   
   walls.   
      
   “The only landlord I could find crazy enough to sign a lease for us to   
   grow weed,” Gamet says of the location. “He hated the government.”   
      
   Back in the days when the dispensary was printing money, Dank fed its   
   employees, paid for all of their health insurance costs and even hosted   
   weekly staff parties. Every time a cab driver pulled up to drop off a   
   customer, that cabbie was getting a fiver.   
      
   “All that stuff went away,” Gamet says. “You used to run your business and   
   not even worry about budgets … because it was just so much money. How can   
   you screw up 50 percent margins?”   
      
   Savvy business owners have managed to survive the downturn, but others   
   have gone out of business or left the state. The number of total cannabis   
   licenses in the state dropped more than 16 percent in the past year alone,   
   according to state data. Cannabis jobs also dropped 16 percent in that   
   same time, according to Vangst’s 2024 jobs report. It was the second   
   straight year of job losses.   
      
   Southern Colorado cannabis retailer Maggie’s Farm, which benefited from   
   out-of-state customers, abruptly shut down five of its eight dispensaries   
   earlier this year, while Curaleaf, one of America’s largest cannabis   
   companies, said last January that it had shuttered its production and   
   cultivation facilities in Colorado.   
      
   Karson Humiston personally felt the decline as in-person gatherings   
   resumed after pandemic stay-at-home orders.   
      
   Humiston moved out to Denver right after graduating college to intern for   
   Gamet in hopes of learning all she could about the industry. Soon, her   
   side hustle that connected job seekers with cannabis industry employers   
   grew so much that she quit the internship to focus on her business full   
   time. Her 2016 cannabis career fair drew huge crowds, putting her business   
   on the map. In 2017, job seekers lined up for hours outside the door.   
      
   “It was one of the most successful things we did,” Humiston said. “And   
   then we did it again in 2018. And we did it again in 2019.”   
      
   The pandemic put a stop to the large, in-person gatherings. But last   
   summer, with life returning to normal, the team decided to bring back its   
   flagship event.   
      
   Not a single company signed up.   
      
   “Is something wrong with our sales team?” Humiston joked. She started   
   calling cannabis companies too, who told her they just weren’t hiring.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
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