FLUSHING, MI — Five years ago, marijuana advocate Dale “Rick” Thompson and others delivered petitions that would lead to marijuana legalization in Michigan. He was proud.
As Michigan’s multi-billion-dollar marijuana industry continues to grow and thrive, Thompson recently lay dying of cancer reflecting on his life.
Through the pain and sickness, Thompson maintained his sarcastic wit, poise and compassion for others, friends say.
The 57-year-old father of three children, and a grandfather, died at his home with family in Flushing, where he lived with his elderly mother, on the morning of Sept. 18. He was diagnosed with colon cancer nearly three months ago.
Thompson, a 1983 Flint Central High School graduate, attended the University of Michigan-Flint and Northern Michigan University. He worked in retail as manager at Art Van Furniture before devoting himself to the cannabis legalization movement full time in about 2010.
Thompson’s work revolved around marijuana, a plant, but it was the people who used that plant who motivated and inspired him, said Anton Harb Jr., a friend of Thompson’s and an advocate for veteran marijuana access.
“His greatest superpower was his empathy,” said Harb, who’s looked up to Thompson as a mentor since they met in 2018. “He loved life, he loved cannabis and he loved seeing a smile on people’s faces.”
Since about 2010, if there was a battle in Michigan surrounding legalization or access to marijuana, Thompson was on the frontlines.
“Warrior,” “advocate” and “crusader” are some of the words friends and colleagues used to describe him following news of his death.
Dale “Rick” Thompson, a pioneer in Michigan marijuana legalization, on Sept. 18, 2023. He was 57.
Two of his closest friends, Jamie Lowell and Ryan Basore, sat with Thompson as they watched the first half of the Michigan State University football game on Saturday night. Lowell knew his friend’s time was near. Thompson knew it, too.
“We made sure we told each other that we were happy that we did this great work together to change the world together, and love each other, that kind of stuff,” Lowell said.
Until Thompson became too ill, he co-hosted the “Jazz Cabbage Cafe” podcast alongside Lowell, another Michigan marijuana pioneer. Both men — along with Basore, who served four years in prison for operating a medical marijuana business — were involved with some of the first Michigan dispensaries, at time when a the legality was unclear and risks high.
Before they were friends, Lowell watched Thompson with admiration as he advocated for medical marijuana rights throughout the state.
“Rick is righteous and he always stood up for what he believed in, no matter what,” Lowell said.
The two developed what Lowell described as a “rare connection.”
“He just checks off every box, as a person that loves his family, is righteous, has worked hard toward something they believe in and accomplishes important things,” Lowell said. “I learned a lot from him.”
Back in 2011, Thompson called the fight to legalize marijuana the “social revolution of our time.”
Law enforcement began raiding caregivers and dispensaries they felt violated the law shortly after Michigan voters legalized medical marijuana in 2008. Thompson came to their aid.
“Initially, when it first started in 2010, Rick and I were right there together at those raids,” said Charmie Gholson, who founded Mom United, a group dedicated to ending the war on drugs. “He showed up at some of the first ones with me.”
Gholson remembers meeting Thompson at a protest outside the Oakland County Sheriff’s Office in Pontiac following a series of raids.
“That was the first time we looked at each other and said, this is an actual war and the enemies are us,” Gholson said. “We worked very closely for years just trying to protect people.”
Thompson collaborated with local governments to decriminalize marijuana following the passage of medical marijuana in 2008, and was a leader in the MI Legalize initiative that helped pass recreational marijuana in 2018.
After it passed, “everyone can grow 12 plants and guess what, nobody’s getting raided anymore,” Gholson said. “We stopped it … He’s a hero.”
Thompson regularly contributed comment for marijuana-related stories on MLive. When contacted about six weeks prior to his death, he remained upbeat, thoughtful, kind and funny.
“I’m still a pretty boy,” he joked, after mentioning that he’d lost nearly 60 pounds and was being moved from hospital to a rehab facility.
When his health began to decline, Thompson resigned from his position on the board of the Michigan chapter of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML), which he’d held since 2014. “I am just Rick Thompson, stud at large, at this point,” he said.
Thompson often spoke to legislators at hearings in Lansing and was asked to join a consumer advocacy committee that met with state cannabis licensors to discuss the status of the industry. He pushed for transparency and rules to benefit marijuana customers.
He co-hosted the “Jazz Cabbage Cafe” podcast, previously the Medical Marijuana Radio Show and regularly wrote about cannabis, including as the former editor in chief for Michigan Medical Marijuana Magazine, launched in 2009, and the Compassion Chronicles, an online medical marijuana publication started in 2012.
“By staying true to my purpose and by completely devoting everything I had, I was able to remain in this game,” Thompson told marijuana media outlet Ganjapreneur in 2018. “If I had a nine-to-five job like most other people, I wouldn’t have been nearly as effective in architecting change, and in helping other people do the same.”
Up until his death, Thompson was working for the Redemption Foundation, started by his friend, Basore. The Redemption Foundation is a nonprofit devoted to helping those negatively impacted by prior marijuana prohibition and prosecution.
The change Thompson helped create didn’t go unnoticed. Among the myriad of calls he received as he began fading away in his final weeks was a call from Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel.
“On the call she said goodbye, and thanked him for his work that helped so many people, including his efforts to obtain expungements for Michigan residents with old marijuana convictions for activities which are now legal, and to have the sentences commuted for inmates serving extraordinarily lengthy sentences for marijuana crimes,” Nessel spokesman Danny Wimmer said.
Lowell said numerous people Thompson respected reached out.
“He was inspiring to them,” Lowell said, “and “he was feeling the vibes … I like to believe he was really in tune with the fact that people recognized him.”
Robin Schneider, director of the Michigan Cannabis Industry Association, the state’s largest marijuana trade organization, received an invitation to visit Thompson about a week before his death.
“He asked me to pick him up some Bic lighters and some Zig-Zag Oranges,” Schneider said. “Those are the big ones.”
She reflected on their 13-year relationship, recalling the protests and watching Thompson argue for marijuana access on behalf of patients before the Legislature.
“He was very passionate,” Schneider said. “He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, even if it meant getting gaveled, and I was always proud of him when he did that, even though that’s frowned on in the Legislature.”
When she arrived at Thompson’s home. They discussed the good times and bad. They didn’t always agree on marijuana efforts and issues.
“When I visited with him, he wanted to make sure that I was OK,” Schneider said. “He took time to explain to me that he was comfortable, had been surrounded by his loved ones and there were some things he needed to say to me before he crossed over, and he did so in a classy way.”
They walked outside with the rolling papers and Bic lighters.
“We sat on the patio and laughed about all the times he got gaveled …” Schnieder said. “And he told me he was very proud of me.”
Schneider said Thompson was also proud of himself.
“Cannabis did not legalize itself,” she said. “There were a lot of men and women who worked endlessly to change those laws, and Rick Thompson was one of those people.”
Among the dozens of messages and statements posted to Thompson’s social media pages Monday, thanking him for inspiring them with his mentorship and legalization efforts, was a post from his daughter.
“To the world, you were (an) advocate, leader, speaker, friend and so many things,” she wrote. “At the end of the day, you were just my Dad. That’s all that ever mattered to me.”
Thompson is survived by his children, Matthew, Melissa, Macon, and a granddaughter, Morgan.
Thompson’s funeral is being handled by Swartz Funeral Home, 1225 W. Hill in Flint. A visitation is planned from 3 to 8 p.m. Friday, Sept. 22. Another visitation will begin at 10 a.m. on Saturday, Sept. 23, followed by the funeral service at 11 a.m.
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