Dennis Peron Memoir
Well known
as a determined medical and recreational marijuana activist for decades, Dennis
Peron was also a gay activist, a civil rights activist, and a patron of the
arts.
This
journalist met Dennis when he had left the US Air Force, and had moved into a Haight-Ashbury
commune where my boyfriend Monte also lived. Dennis was ecstatic to meet an
openly-gay couple who did not hesitate to hold hands on the street and kiss in theaters and
restaurants. This was risky behavior in 1969, even in the Haight, and we liked
being joined by Dennis and friends.
Dennis
invited us to a party, and we noticed an intense man playing a guitar and
serenading some young women. We found out later that the intense man was
Charles Manson, and that his "family" was also at the party.
Two women
coordinated the commune and a food conspiracy, and we found Dennis in the
kitchen many times, watching them load bright green marijuana into gelatin
capsules. Dennis asked them many questions, which later helped him in his
restaurant and club enterprises. Communal dining was a major attraction for the
commune, and for other nearby linked communes, which belonged to the Kaliflower
Collective. The collective promoted vegetarianism, sex without shame, expanding
consciousness, altruism, and love.
Dennis
climbed into bed with Monte and I sometimes, but there was not much climbing,
since beds were actually king-size mattresses on floors, with Indian bedspreads
for sheets. There was a communal consciousness and the hope that the counterculture could create a better world. Studying Hinduism was popular, since it
offers reincarnation. The feeling was that maybe our families and friends would
be more supportive and caring in future lives. We wore clothing and sandals
from India, but we could not figure out Indian
wrap-around underwear, which is now explained in online videos. Everyone knew
not to knock on bedroom doors if they heard sitar music or George Harrison's
"Inner Light." That was code for sex was Happening, so do not disturb.
Dennis was shocked one afternoon, after we voted him off the bed. He had tried
to bring a kitten with him.
Dennis,
Monte, and I and about a dozen LGBTs joined a crowd of over 200 counterculture
Love-In celebrants in June 1970, to enjoy our own first Gay Pride party on
Hippie Hill in Golden
Gate Park. It was a first San Francisco event to mark the Stonewall Riots
that started on June 27, 1969 in New York City, the year before. My boyfriend Monte
and Dennis and some lesbian and gay couples were in the midst of the throng on
blankets, and on alert for very possible harassment. Instead young men who
passed by said, "Cool." One of
the lesbians in my photographs said that she
thought that they wanted to
impress their girlfriends with their liberal attitudes.
Dennis and
I met to discuss the organizing of a San Francisco Gay Liberation Front group,
and he was excited to hear about Black Panther Party women and men appearing at
a small gay meeting in 1971 in Oakland, to invite us to a Black Panther
convention in Washington DC. He also enjoyed hearing about a
large Berkeley Gay Liberation Front meeting that was hosted by women from the
Symbionese Liberation Army. We spoke later, and Dennis said he was too busy
with his business interests and romances, but that he would support gay groups,
and he did.
Dennis and
I had a connection even before we met. One of his jobs while serving in Viet Nam was shipping coffins back to the US. Unlike many of my friends and
cousins, I was not spoiled and had to buy my own car, so I worked at Federal Express
until coffins arrived from Viet Nam.
Dennis
owned a series of marijuana clubs, where he combined a welcoming presence with a
quality product. He also endured a series of law enforcement raids, and he was
shot in the leg in one incident. When I complained that people were pressing
him to sell them marijuana while we spoke at Café Flore, with him
still in pain and leaning on a crutch, with a Long Island accent similar to Harvey
Milk's he let me know that he wanted to sell them the contraband, and that he
had a stash under his bed in the hospital, and made sales there.
Dennis
instantly bonded with Harvey Milk, since they had similar
politics and a need to help people. Dennis financed Harvey's political campaigns, and also his
successor Harry Britt's, and many other LGBT candidates and allies' campaigns.
The multi-floored Peron home on 17th Street was a fine TV viewing spot to watch Lyndon
Johnson announce that he would not run for re-election and see Richard Nixon
take his last official helicopter ride from the White House lawn. The home was
a hotbed of anti-Viet Nam War organizing and anti-conservative Nixon
legislation politicking, and the crowds at such special events felt like real
San Francisco progressive values in action.
Dennis' Island
Restaurant was a boost to businesses near its location at 16th and Sanchez
Streets, and more than 60 people were employed there. It drew a continuous
stream of guests, and many also patronized the marijuana supermarket upstairs.
My German relatives were astounded when they looked into the kitchen one afternoon
to see that the stoned and bleary-eyed staff were naked and mixing main courses
on a table. That explained our chili merged with lentil soup lunch, and coffee
blended with tea.
Dennis' largest
and most successful medical marijuana club was on Market Street at Van Ness Avenue, on 4 floors with a large elevator,
that employed more than 80 people. The elevator made the club accessible to
disabled and ill people, and it drew many wheelchair users. They are vulnerable
on streets and in parks, while seeking pain relief, and the large club had
greeters helping them on every floor. It was appreciated, as was Free Dope Day
on Thursdays. Grateful guests fell at Dennis' feet and kissed his hands in
gratitude while standing in that special line, and they helped him when he ran
a campaign for governor as a Republican, to stir things up. Gagging sounds were
heard in the background while I posed him in front of an American flag for the
campaign promotions.
Dennis was
the center of attention at many events, even at weddings and funerals, where
mostly young people gathered around him. My lover Beau and I celebrated our 8th
anniversary at the Valencia Rose nightclub. Jose Sarria performed
"Madame Butterfly" on stage. In attendance was famous erotic film star Scott
Anderson ("Boys of San Francisco"—the filmmaker thought it would be funny to include me in a parade
scene, and I never asked Dennis how he knew so many of the film's stars). Owners Hank Wilson and Ron Lanza helped serve shark dinners and the large cake
that we brought was served. All through the event Dennis was the center of the overflow audience's
attention, even when Jose drew the film star Scott on stage to join the
opera actors and be mauled.
What drew people to Dennis was his promotion of
freedom to indulge in marijuana and sexual freedom. He also gave away joints, sometimes
throwing handfuls from stages into enthusiastic crowds.
A large
encampment of tents welcomed friends at a Summer of Love anniversary near Ocean Beach, and as they walked closer to the
tents they saw huge glittering carved marijuana leaves, and Dennis waving to
them. He had a grand presence with activist followers at street fairs, parades,
the Rainbow Gathering, and Burning Man.
Some of Dennis' TV appearances included his friend Jo Daly, the first lesbian police commissioner, appointed by Mayor Dianne Feinstein. Jo told multiple audiences that she lost her appetite during breast cancer treatment, and that medical marijuana had revived her interest in eating, and saved her life. Physicians and other caregivers recommended their clients to Dennis' clubs, and his warmth and caring was on view every day. He spotted people with gray or green skin tones, and others walking with difficulty, and he seated them, and brought service guides to them.
Some of Dennis' TV appearances included his friend Jo Daly, the first lesbian police commissioner, appointed by Mayor Dianne Feinstein. Jo told multiple audiences that she lost her appetite during breast cancer treatment, and that medical marijuana had revived her interest in eating, and saved her life. Physicians and other caregivers recommended their clients to Dennis' clubs, and his warmth and caring was on view every day. He spotted people with gray or green skin tones, and others walking with difficulty, and he seated them, and brought service guides to them.
His large
office at his Market
Street
club was a whirlwind of activity. Bay Times journalists joined CNN and CBS news
crews on couches, watching giant duffle bags and suitcases of product hauled in
the door, along with a huge man wearing a horned helmet and biker gear who
carried THC-infused Rice Krispies squares. He introduced himself as a Hells
Angels Motorcycle Club baker.
Dennis
dedicated himself to helping people with HIV/AIDS after his lover Jonathan
died. Jonathan and I discussed his condition one afternoon, while Dennis placed
morphine from an eyedropper onto Jonathan's tongue to alleviate the pain of Kaposi
Sarcoma in his mouth. Rainbow flag creator Gilbert Baker stopped on his way to
the hot tub, listened to us, and then dropped his towel to break the tension in
the room and get a laugh. Then I saw that people seated behind Jonathan,
including Dennis, were crying.
Dennis
sponsored my photography show at A Different Light Bookstore, which was also
sponsored by James Hormel. Mayor Willie Brown spoke and gave me a proclamation for Rink Foto Day in San Francisco. Dennis asked to see
it and spoke about his many awards over the years from thankful leaders in the
political and art spheres.
Gilbert
Baker was a longtime friend of Dennis' and was given a free hand to
redecorate Dennis' home, clearing away macramé, hanging bedspreads, and potted
plants. It was a
lavender wonderland when Gilbert was finished, and guests said that it had a new
feeling of joyousness. Dennis funded Gilbert's flag and costume creations, and
his art work. Gilbert provided lavish decorations for many benefits for a variety of causes hosted by
Dennis.
Dennis
welcomed the founder of Gay Liberation Harry Hay and his lover John Burnside to
live in the home, as refugees from Southern California. More than a dozen Radical Faeries
stepped forward to serve as caregivers for the thankful couple.
Wonderful
events were a part of Dennis' activism, including the time that he was invited to
debate with Australia's prime minister. He staged
impressive gatherings all over
the world, with overwhelming press coverage.
My last
visit to see Dennis was a Prop 215 anniversary party at his home, which is now
a B&B, and it was filled with friends of many years smoking Dennis' dope and
reminiscing about his generosity. Dennis was in his bedroom, and as he had said
many times before, progress has been made in furthering civil rights, women's
rights, LGBT rights, anti-war activities, and many other worthwhile causes,
but marijuana was still seen as a threat instead of a national treasure in too
much of the US.