William Randolph Hearst

Ah, William Randolph Hearst—newspaper tycoon, media mogul, and, as it turns out, one of the biggest villains in the story of cannabis criminalization. You might know Hearst as the inspiration for Citizen Kane or as the guy with the ridiculously opulent castle in California. But today, we’re not here to talk about his taste in architecture or how he revolutionized yellow journalism. No, today we’re diving into the dark and twisted tale of how one man’s ego, greed, and racism helped turn a harmless plant into the scapegoat of the century.

So, grab your front-row seat, because we’re about to expose the man who took “fake news” to a whole new level and, in the process, made sure that cannabis got a bad rap that would take nearly a century to shake off.

Hearst: The King of Yellow Journalism

Let’s start with a little background on Mr. Hearst. Born into a wealthy family in 1863, William Randolph Hearst was destined for greatness—or at least for a life of power and influence. By the time he hit his stride in the 1890s, Hearst had built a media empire that included dozens of newspapers, magazines, and radio stations. His specialty? Sensationalism. If there was a juicy story, you could bet that Hearst would blow it up into a scandal of epic proportions. Facts? Pfft. Who needs ‘em when you’ve got a readership to entertain and an empire to build?

Hearst wasn’t just about selling newspapers, though. He had a political agenda, and he wasn’t shy about using his media outlets to push it. He was an old-school, red-blooded capitalist who believed in the power of big business and was fiercely protective of his interests. And it’s here, dear reader, that our story starts to take a darker turn.

The Plot Thickens: Hearst vs. Hemp

Now, what does a media mogul like Hearst have to do with cannabis, you ask? Well, it all comes down to one of cannabis’s closest relatives: hemp. You see, back in the day, hemp was a big deal. It was used to make everything from paper to rope to textiles. It was renewable, versatile, and—here’s the kicker—threatening to certain industries that were near and dear to Hearst’s heart.

Hearst owned vast tracts of timberland, and he had a significant stake in the paper industry. His newspapers relied on cheap wood pulp, and hemp, with its potential as a cheaper, more sustainable alternative for paper production, was a direct threat to his business empire. But rather than innovate or diversify, Hearst did what any self-respecting robber baron of the time would do—he decided to crush the competition by any means necessary.

And what better way to do that than by launching a smear campaign against the source of the threat?

The Smear Campaign: Cannabis Goes from Helpful to Hated

Hearst knew that if he wanted to protect his interests, he needed to turn public opinion against cannabis and, by extension, hemp. So, he did what he did best: he weaponized his newspapers. Hearst’s papers began running stories that painted cannabis as a dangerous, mind-altering drug that was corrupting America’s youth and turning people into violent criminals.

But it wasn’t just any old drug narrative. Hearst’s campaign was laced with racism and xenophobia, playing on the fears of white Americans at the time. He made sure to associate cannabis with Mexican immigrants and African Americans, spinning tales of “marihuana-crazed” minorities committing heinous crimes under the influence of the devil’s weed. It didn’t matter that these stories were exaggerated or outright fabricated—what mattered was that they sold papers and scared the pants off the public.

And let’s not forget the terminology shift. Hearst and his cronies started using the term “marihuana” (a Spanish word) instead of cannabis, knowing that it sounded foreign and menacing to the average American reader. The goal was simple: make cannabis scary, make it foreign, and make it something to be feared and outlawed.

The Big Payoff: The Marihuana Tax Act of 1937

Hearst’s relentless campaign of misinformation paid off in spades. By the mid-1930s, the public was thoroughly convinced that cannabis was a dangerous drug that needed to be eradicated. Hearst’s stories were cited by politicians and law enforcement as evidence that something needed to be done to protect society from this “menace.” Enter the Marihuana Tax Act of 1937, which effectively made cannabis illegal in the United States.

The Act was a death blow to the hemp industry and a huge win for Hearst. With hemp out of the picture, his paper mills and timberlands were safe, and he could continue to dominate the newsprint industry without worrying about pesky competition from a sustainable crop. It was a classic case of big business crushing innovation for the sake of profit—and Hearst was the mastermind behind it all.

The Wake’n’Bake Verdict: A Legacy of Lies

So, what’s the moral of the story? William Randolph Hearst wasn’t just a media mogul—he was a master manipulator who used his influence to shape public opinion and protect his own interests, no matter the cost. His campaign against cannabis was rooted in greed, racism, and a desire to maintain the status quo, and it had devastating consequences that lasted for decades.

At Wake’n’Bake Lounge, we believe in truth, transparency, and the power of education. The story of Hearst’s role in the criminalization of cannabis is a cautionary tale about the dangers of propaganda, the power of the media, and the lengths to which some people will go to protect their profits. It’s also a reminder that the truth has a way of coming to light, even after years of misinformation.

Today, we’re seeing a renewed interest in the benefits of cannabis and a growing movement to undo the damage caused by Hearst and his ilk. And while we can’t change the past, we can learn from it—and work to ensure that the future of cannabis is one that’s based on facts, not fear.

So, the next time you hear someone talking about the dangers of cannabis, remember that much of what we’ve been told was the result of one man’s greed and a whole lot of fake news. And as for William Randolph Hearst? Well, let’s just say his legacy is a bit more complicated than a grand old castle on a hill.