Dabney: From ditch weed to dispensaries, Minnesota’s cannabis roots run deep

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Long before THC gummies lined the shelves of co-ops or cannabis lounges opened in Duluth and the North Loop, hemp quietly thrived in Minnesota — largely unnoticed, often untamed and decidedly unglamorous. Now that adult-use cannabis is finally legal here, it’s worth asking: What’s the real back story of weed in the Land of 10,000 Lakes?

Minnesota’s relationship with cannabis stretches back more than a century. One of the earliest tangible records is a hemp specimen collected in 1876, preserved in the University of Minnesota’s Bell Museum Herbarium — proof the plant was once a natural part of our landscape. In the 1930s, the U’s medicinal gardens grew Cannabis sativa alongside foxglove, belladonna and opium poppy, all studied for pain relief and sedation as part of legitimate medical research.

In the early 1900s, Minnesota farmers cultivated industrial hemp across counties like Redwood, Renville and Nobles, growing it for rope, textiles and wartime supplies. World War II intensified this cultivation through the federal government’s “Hemp for Victory” campaign, urging patriotic farmers to plant thousands of acres of hemp for Navy ropes, parachutes and canvas. Minnesota’s fertile fields and processing plants became critical to the war effort — more than 11,000 acres were planted by 1943.

Yet just as rapidly as hemp rose, it fell. Postwar federal regulations, growing stigma and the Marihuana Tax Act of 1937 halted legal hemp farming. Fields went fallow, mills shuttered and the plant was criminalized — alongside the intoxicating cannabis it was frequently confused with. Nevertheless, Minnesota’s wild hemp — dubbed “ditch weed” or “feral cannabis” — persisted, stubbornly growing along railroad tracks, parks such as Bruce Vento and highways like U.S. 10. Ironically, these feral plants were largely descendants of government-planted wartime crops.

Throughout the 1980s and ’90s, the DEA and local authorities spent thousands of dollars attempting to eradicate this harmless ditch weed, despite its lack of intoxicating properties. To some observers, these wild plants became botanical relics — living time capsules of a forgotten chapter in Minnesota’s agricultural heritage.

A critical figure in preserving this history was Robert G. Robinson, a University of Minnesota plant genetics professor. In the 1960s, Robinson viewed hemp not as a vice but as a valuable “orphan crop,” rich in potential yet unfairly overlooked. His research documented that hemp’s disappearance began long before the modern war on drugs, grounding Minnesota’s cannabis story firmly in science rather than scandal.

Minnesota’s complicated relationship with cannabis illustrates a cycle of acceptance, rejection and eventual rediscovery. Early 20th-century botanists once encouraged hemp cultivation to reduce fiber imports. During the war, it was seen as a patriotic necessity. Then prohibition — driven by racialized fears and political panic — made all cannabis illegal, intoxicating or not.

Now, nearly a century later, Minnesota is once again embracing the plant. The 2018 federal farm bill legalized industrial hemp nationwide, sparking renewed cultivation focused on CBD, textiles and sustainability. Adult-use cannabis legalization in 2023 marked the start of another era, positioning cannabis as medicine and commerce.

This new era was boldly launched this year by the White Earth Nation, which opened Waabigwan Mashkiki (“flower medicine” in Ojibwe) on May 24 in Moorhead — the first recreational cannabis dispensary in Minnesota to operate off tribal lands. Enabled by a landmark compact with the state, White Earth can open up to eight dispensaries beyond reservation boundaries. By leveraging their tribal sovereignty, the White Earth Nation bypassed the state’s slow licensing rollout and delivered legal cannabis to Minnesotans before any state-regulated businesses could open. This wasn’t merely a retail milestone but a powerful statement of Indigenous leadership and economic self-determination in an industry historically marked by exclusion.

This highlights the dual system shaping Minnesota’s cannabis industry: the state-regulated pathway and tribal-governor compacts. While tribes are already running dispensaries, Minnesota’s state licensing system lags significantly. Of the 3,531 applicants to the Office of Cannabis Management, only 312 had been preliminarily approved by early June, and no final licenses had yet been issued.

I was recently among these 312 applicants granted preliminary approval for a microbusiness license — a personal milestone marking significant progress in my cannabis journey. Our dispensary, planned for Agrarian Nursery off Hiawatha Avenue, seeks to blend Minnesota’s agricultural legacy with contemporary, sustainable cultivation. It feels like a full-circle moment, reconnecting the deep roots of Minnesota’s hemp history to a more inclusive cannabis future.

Minnesota’s cannabis isn’t an imported novelty. It’s been here all along — in university gardens, wartime fields, roadside ditches and research labs. The Bell Museum’s preserved cannabis specimen, collected shortly after our state’s founding, offers physical evidence that cannabis has always belonged here. Although our policies and perceptions have swung wildly, the plant has endured.

As we write the next chapter of legalization, remembering this history isn’t merely romantic nostalgia. It’s essential for grounding policy in reality. Cannabis in Minnesota isn’t foreign or inherently dangerous; it’s woven into our agricultural identity and scientific heritage.

The plant that was quietly cultivated, then criminalized, has come full circle — ready to grow openly once more.

Before it was cool, before it was controversial, cannabis was just another plant in Minnesota’s fields. It’s time we treat it that way again.

Clemon Dabney is a contributing columnist for the Minnesota Star Tribune focusing on all things cannabis. He is a cannabis expert, scientist and entrepreneur.