Cheryl Shuman, founder of the Beverly Hills Cannabis Club, arrived at the Perennial Holistic Wellness Center in Los Angeles in a red 2010 Ferrari California, a gift from a friend. The upmarket medical-marijuana dispensary was the destination for supplies for the “mansion party” that Shuman and her daughter, Aimee, were hosting the following evening to promote their marijuana enterprises. Shuman, a tall 54-year-old blonde, handed the keys to Perennial’s valets with a Mae West-inflected “Careful, boys.” She presented her state-issued Medical Marijuana Identification Card to the receptionist, a polite, potbellied man who appeared to be under the influence of Perennial’s offerings. Upon Shuman’s greeting, he brightened and replied, “Always,” as he reached under his desk to buzz her into the marijuana room.
Shuman, the founder of the Beverly Hills Cannabis Club, began her day with a power smoothie of marijuana, wheatgrass and vegetables. She regularly ingests the drug through a vaporizer and seasons her food with it. Shuman’s club supplies its 50 members with marijuana from a 68-acre farm in Northern California, which she established in 2008. To provide a wider variety for her event, Shuman held a dinner featuring a cannabis tasting paired to each course. The marijuana room was filled with an array of edibles, including marijuana-laced brownies, pretzels and goldfish-shaped crackers. Additionally, there were 13 small jars, each filled with one of the marijuana strains available that day. The third display case held Shuman’s line of Beverly Hills Cannabis Club products, such as golf shirts in long and short sleeves, ashtrays, hemp-infused shampoo and olive oil, and a line of hand-held marijuana vaporizers.Cheryl Shuman conferred with Sam Humeid, the owner of Perennial, about which strains to bring to the party. Humeid, a former financial planner with heavy-lidded eyes and spiky hair, was visibly in a state of relaxation. Shuman presented Humeid with the dinner menu for the event, which had been printed on high-quality paper and embossed with the Beverly Hills Cannabis Club logo. After a few moments of contemplation, Humeid declared his hunger. “Thanks, Cheryl,” he said.
Shuman selected 3.5 grams of Juicy Fruit, Super Lemon Haze, Maui Wowie, Cannatonic and her favorite, Phyllis Diller, from the first case. She studied a photo of the comedian, dressed in a florid pantsuit and brandishing a cigarette holder. “I need to get one of those for my next photo shoot,” she remarked.
Cheryl Shuman’s approach to marijuana has been met with some resistance from those in the activist world, who view advocacy as a cause and not a market opportunity. In 2011, Shuman was removed from the steering committee of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML) Women’s Alliance after it was alleged that she had used the group’s email list to promote her marijuana interests. Shuman denies this. Diane Fornbacher, a founding member of the alliance and a frequent adversary of Shuman, commented: “She may be good at publicity and things like that. But she’s not interested in reform.”
Shuman believes that business is an effective approach to activism, and that it can reach more people than standing on a corner with a sign. She was eager to show off her prized guests for the following evening’s event: executives from FremantleMedia, the production company that produces franchises such as “American Idol” and “America’s Got Talent”. They had entered into a partnership with documentarian Morgan Spurlock to co-produce a reality show (working title: “High Society”) starring Shuman and Aimee. Despite her tendency to “fluff it up” on television, Allen F. St. Pierre, executive director of NORML, acknowledges that Shuman is leading the discussion.
In 1996, California passed the first medical-marijuana law, setting in motion a dramatic transformation of the legal landscape for cannabis. Today, 22 states and the District of Columbia have medical-marijuana programs, and in 2012, Colorado and Washington became the first states to legalize recreational-marijuana use. Alaska, Oregon and the District of Columbia followed suit in November, although portions of the district’s law were blocked by Congress a month later. This shift in legal and cultural attitudes towards marijuana can be attributed, in part, to increasing acceptance amongst women.
According to Allen St. Pierre, executive director of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, women were the hardest group to convince before 1996. However, over time, the narrative changed from “Just Say No” to one of compassion and the notion that marijuana should not be a criminal offense. Women are now seen as power brokers in the marijuana debate, and are helping to counterbalance the outdated stereotypes of marijuana users. People like Shuman, who has earned the nickname “the Martha Stewart of marijuana” and holds the trademark for “Stiletto Stoners”, are injecting a note of female glamour into the conversation.
Cheryl Shuman, the founder of Cheryl Shuman Inc., has ambitious plans for the future of marijuana-related ventures. Her plans include Stiletto Stoners, a clothing line for fashion-conscious marijuana users; the Hautevape vaporizer for women; Cannalebrity, a digital marijuana-celebrity magazine; and Shaman Therapeutics, which would retail cannabis-and-herbal remedies in pill, salve and other forms. Shuman also proposed 420-friendly resorts, yoga studios, Internet cafes, and assisted-living centers.
To celebrate her plans, Shuman rented a faux-Italian villa in the hills above Sunset Boulevard. When a reporter arrived, one of her “brand ambassadors,” an athletic college student from New Jersey named Briana, gave a tour of the house before taking the reporter to the poolside gazebo.
On a sunny afternoon in Los Angeles, Cheryl Shuman gathered with friends and colleagues in a luxurious villa to celebrate her ambitious plans for the future of marijuana-related ventures. Shuman, a native of Buena Vista, Ohio, is the founder of Cheryl Shuman Inc., and has proposed a range of products and services including Stiletto Stoners, a clothing line for fashion-conscious marijuana users; the Hautevape vaporizer for women; Cannalebrity, a digital marijuana-celebrity magazine; and Shaman Therapeutics, which would retail cannabis-and-herbal remedies in pill, salve and other forms.
Shuman, a self-made entrepreneur, began her career by self-publishing a coupon-clipping newsletter which eventually led to a recurring segment as the Coupon Queen on a nationally syndicated TV news program called “P.M. Magazine.” However, after a car accident in 1983, Shuman was forced to take a break from the show during her recovery. Now, with her new plans for the marijuana industry, Shuman is ready to make a comeback.
After three weeks of searching in Los Angeles, Shuman found her biological father. Despite his wife’s initial reluctance, Shuman was welcomed into her father’s home. To make ends meet, Shuman began working a $5-an-hour job at an eyeglass store in Encino. Her fortunes changed when she befriended a prop master working on a film starring Shirley MacLaine. Shuman offered to go to the set to measure the frames and lenses for MacLaine’s character. This chance encounter led to the creation of Starry Eyes Optical Services, a million-dollar business providing eyewear for movies and TV shows like “Malcolm X,” “Terminator 2,” “When Harry Met Sally,” “Murphy Brown,” “Cheers” and many others. Shuman also appeared on the QVC shopping network as the Optician to the Stars, demonstrating her natural talent for promotion. Her story of being a single parent living in her car captivated viewers, and she quickly became an urban legend.In 1995, Shuman’s story took an unexpected and bizarre turn when she filed a lawsuit against Steven Seagal, the martial-arts expert and action-film star, for sexual harassment and breach of contract. Shuman further alleged that Seagal had hired thugs to threaten her life in retaliation for bringing the suit. Seagal’s lawyer dismissed the claims as “frivolous and without merit.”
The scandal caused Shuman’s eyewear business to collapse, and she spent several years in semihiding, worried that Seagal was out to get her. When asked about her time underground, Shuman described it as “a strange nomad space where I lost everything.” She broke into tears when asked about her children, saying, “I didn’t see my kids for a couple of years. It still breaks my heart.”
In 2006, Shuman was diagnosed with an advanced form of ovarian cancer that had spread to her colon and bladder. Believing her condition to be terminal, she had even gone so far as to purchase a coupon for her own cremation. However, Shuman had been using marijuana since 1996, when she started the Beverly Hills Cannabis Club, and began treating herself with high-doses of marijuana oil, which she had to smuggle into the hospital. Miraculously, within 30 days she was off her IV morphine pump and all the pharmaceuticals she was being given, and within 90 days she was back to work full time.
Despite her remarkable recovery, many people expressed doubt about Shuman’s illness, suggesting that she had invented her diagnosis and recovery as a means of self-promotion. Shuman, however, laughs off these accusations, noting that it would be a strange way to promote a reality show seven years later. The American Cancer Society does warn of “serious health consequences” for those who rely on marijuana for treatment.
At sunset, Shuman’s thirteen guests gathered for dinner. Each place setting included a FlowerMate Vapormax V, a hand-held vaporizer designed to resemble an iPod Mini. After a tutorial from Shuman on how to operate the device, guests were invited to sprinkle a pinkie-size amount of Juicy Fruit into the exposed heating chamber. A waiter then circulated with a Cannador, a walnut-and-cherry-wood box designed to store marijuana at the proper humidification levels, offering the guests a choice from among the strains Shuman had brought. David Dinenberg and his wife Jen, co-founders of KindBanking, a financial-services enterprise for marijuana businesses, remarked on their research of Shuman’s work. After a few fumbles, the guests were soon puffing away on the vaporizers.Aimee Shuman assured David Dinenberg he could have as much as he liked, to which Dinenberg replied, “In that case, I’ll do Juicy Fruit.” He then picked up his Vapormax and asked, “I just suck?” Shuman provided tasting notes and a brief botanical history for each strain, warning that Super Lemon Haze was “not the best strain for people wound tight.” Maui Wowie, on the other hand, was said to “leave you energetic and inspired,” while Cannatonic was described as living up to its name. Most of the guests, however, gravitated towards Phyllis Diller, which one of the Fremantle executives referred to as the “Red Bull and vodka” of marijuana.
Urban Smedeby, an investment banker from Sweden, surveyed the gathering with an incredulous smile. He was not a marijuana user, remarking, “I’m in the twilight zone. This is a little bit far out for me.” His firm, Bridgewater Capital, had sent him to Irvine to vet Shuman for investment. He had stated to me over the phone a few days earlier, “We don’t have a clear view of her, what her revenue model is, frankly. We need to find out if we give her five or 10 million dollars, what will she do with it.”
At another table, Jen Dinenberg was telling Shuman and another guest, the founder of an activist group called Moms for Marijuana International, about “the talk” she recently had with her two young children. “They need to know what Mommy and Daddy do,” she said.
Her husband smiled his agreement, and plucked at his Vapormax, which was empty. Shuman refilled it with Super Lemon Haze, noting that this strain had been a Cannabis Cup winner. She asked if Jen had ever been to the Cannabis Cup, a large marijuana festival and competition organized annually by the magazine High Times. She laughed and said, “No, I don’t get down with the hippies.”
The conversation shifted to whether the rapidly growing marijuana industry had entered a bubble. The consensus was that it had not. David Dinenberg, whose company planned to offer a debit card called the KindCard, envisioned a future suggested by the party, in which marijuana and high-end cuisine were commingled. “You’ll see it in Aspen first,” he said. “Because it’s legal.”
At a break between courses during a celebratory dinner, Shuman addressed her guests, expressing her gratitude for their attendance and predicting great success for the upcoming “pot-com boom”. She became emotional as she praised the “fine cannabis, fine food and fine company” before turning her gaze to her daughter, seemingly unsure of what to say next.
“That’s an amazing speech,” Aimee interjected, “but you didn’t mention me.”
Following the event, Shuman began to explore a move to Nevada in anticipation of the 2016 recreational-marijuana ballot measure. “Nevada is the promised land for us,” she declared. “I want to be in Vegas when it goes live.” Despite initial interest from Fremantle to create a show based on a mother-daughter pot team, the cable networks declined due to potential conflict with family advertisers. Shuman was unperturbed, claiming that Fremantle wanted to make her the “Kim Kardashian of pot”, which she expressed was the “last thing” she wanted.
