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Three Marijuana Joints, Two Frowns

Two readers want to hang the Smithsonian Institution from the highest tree because of an item that ran in this column a month ago. The issue: three well-aged marijuana cigarettes.

The smokables were flushed down the toilet by Smithsonian officials in August after they were discovered inside three 55-gallon drums. The drums had been packed as time capsules in 1969 by Washington area high school students. The idea was to open the drums in 1996, when the Smithsonian celebrated its 150th birthday. The contents were supposed to provide a kids'-eye view of American life in the late 1960s.

The drums were opened Aug. 11. They contained 1969 memorabilia of all sorts -- tapes, records, college applications, magazines. None of that was illegal at the time, and none is illegal now.

But pot was and is. So officials decided to send the three joints down the river. The joints had some minor historical value, certainly. But if a national, federally funded museum kept dope on hand, even for archival purposes, wouldn't that museum be breaking the law, or at least winking at it?

Bill Henson and John C. Bullock don't think so. They say the pot-destroying decision was "not only astonishing, but disturbing" (John's phrase) and "a slap in the face to the kids who participated in the time capsule project" (Bill's phrase).

John says Smithsonian officials showed "a disturbingly editorial view of history." He says officials caved in to the same "revisionism" that ensnared the museum in controversy last year, when an exhibit of the famed Enola Gay, the plane that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, was extensively modified in response to protests over its content.

Bill suspects darker motives. He intimated that Smithsonian officials deep-sixed the grass "in an attempt to deny that teenagers of that era experimented with drugs." Or perhaps the idea was to "dissuade some summer intern from toking up," Bill suggested. If so, the Smithsonian could have encased the three joints in Lucite, Bill said.

I'll rise to the Smithsonian's defense in just a minute. First, though, I've just unearthed the notes I made in mid-September when I spoke to Laura McKie, assistant director for education at the National Museum of American History and overseer of the drum-opening project.

Laura said the grass would be destroyed because "it wouldn't be appropriate for us to keep it around." She said that no plans had been formulated to mount an exhibit from the contents of the three drums. Therefore, museum officials "did not feel we could store the marijuana cigarettes on the premises."

Yes, the cigarettes had already been on museum property for 27 years. But no one knew that for sure, or had access to them until the drums were opened, Laura pointed out.

I say Laura's reasoning is airtight. I'd take it one step further.

The Smithsonian is not duty-bound to display everything it has. Every historical display is selective. Let's hope it's also artful. You can evoke the 1960s through Janis Joplin records and tie-dyed shirts. You don't need to display actual drugs. Records and shirts are symbolic. Dope is evidentiary.

By the way, marijuana cigarettes are already on display in many other federal establishments, usually as part of law enforcement exhibits. So, John and Bill, let's can the idea that the federal government is too lily-livered to put actual dope out there for all to see.

I'm also bothered by the implication that pot was the central aspect of life in the 1960s, or that it represented some sort of breakthrough. Pot was one diversion among many. It was not invented in the 1960s, just as alcohol was not invented during Prohibition. Besides, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that more high school students avoided pot during the 1960s than rushed to try it.

I'm sure the Smithsonian also worried about negative reaction from museum-goers if it put the three joints on display. Can't you just see headline-hunting members of Congress smacking their lips over that news?

Then there's the question of whether the Smithsonian would be legitimizing drug use by displaying three joints. I don't believe children would experiment with drugs because they see them in a display case. But some parents would feel otherwise, and who is to say for sure that they are wrong?

John and Bill conclude their letters with the time-honored charge of "political correctness." I'd call it judgment instead.

We all know that thousands of Americans die each year in car accidents involving drunk drivers. The Smithsonian does not display battered corpses or blood-soaked cars. Does that mean the museum is fleeing from a big American truth? Not at all. It means the museum can find other ways to tell a story without being offensive. You don't have to be a slave to an artifact just because you happen to possess it.

John Bullock did make me smile with his final point. He said the Smithsonian has bollixed scientific research by destroying the 1969 pot.

It seems there is a rumor in some circles that dope today is stronger than dope in 1969. "Now if we had a sample from 27 years ago . . . ," he clucks.

That Smithsonian. No end to the trouble it causes.