By Christopher Filkins
For decades, the relationship between cannabis and country clubs was defined by furtive teenagers ducking behind sand traps, groundskeepers turning a blind eye to the smell of “grass” mixing with fresh-cut grass. A possession charge could ban you from these manicured greens forever, your membership revoked faster than you could yell “fore!” The idea that cannabis professionals would one day stride through the front entrance, registration paid and tee times booked, would have seemed as unlikely as…well, Budweiser sponsoring outlaw bikers.
Yet here we are. In New England, a bastion of old money and traditional values, the TeeHC Open has been quietly rewriting the rules since 2022. Over 300 cannabis professionals now gather annually not in some warehouse on the industrial edge of town, but on the fairway itself, where dispensary owners and product brands discuss multi-state operations between putts and raise thousands for charity over post-round drinks.
The transformation from contraband to country club didn’t happen overnight, and understanding its trajectory requires looking at another unlikely American success story.
The Sturgis Blueprint
In 1938, nine motorcycles raced through the Black Hills of South Dakota. Led by Clarence “Pappy” Hoel, what began as the Black Hills Motor Classic would eventually become the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, today drawing 700,000+ attendees and generating nearly $800 million in annual tourism revenue.
But Sturgis didn’t grow on chrome and leather alone. When Budweiser planted its flag at the rally in the 1970s, everything changed. The beer giant didn’t just hang banners; it created experiences, brought the Clydesdales, and essentially told mainstream America that outlaw bikers were consumers worth courting. That partnership provided Sturgis with both cash flow and cultural legitimacy, transforming a regional curiosity into a global phenomenon.
The lesson? Outsider cultures become mainstream landmarks when an authentic community meets strategic sponsorship. Cannabis is now running that exact same play.
Breaking Par, Breaking Barriers
The TeeHC Open, hosted by Cannabis Creative Group (CCG) and Joint Venture & Co., deliberately breaks from the cannabis industry’s tired trade show formula. No fluorescent-lit convention centers, no sterile booth setups, no attendees checking their watches during another compliance panel.
Instead, TeeHC unfolds across 18 holes of radical normalcy. Foursomes move through the course, brand activations line the greens, and business cards change hands over golf carts rather than across expo tables. The event has raised over $10,000 for charities, including Massachusetts Fallen Heroes, because nothing says “legitimate business sector” quite like supporting veterans’ families.
Picture it: where once a young caddie might’ve lost his job for sparking up after hours, now CEOs of multi-million dollar cannabis companies are calculating handicaps on the identical scorecards as their distribution strategies. The revolution will not be televised – it’ll be published in the club newsletter.
This isn’t just networking as much as it’s a deliberate act of cultural subversion. Golf courses have long served as America’s unofficial boardrooms, where deals get done in environments explicitly designed to exclude outsiders. By staging TeeHC in this setting, Cannabis Creative Group isn’t just organizing an event; they are crashing one of American capitalism’s most exclusive parties.
Beyond the Cannabis Echo Chamber
What makes TeeHC different from other industry mixers is its understanding of how cultural legitimacy actually works. CCG recognized that cannabis doesn’t need more conferences about cannabis; it needs to insert itself into existing American rituals.
This insight is on its way to becoming a gospel of cannabis marketing. Take Greatland Ganja in Alaska, they’ve completely stopped sponsoring cannabis-specific events. Instead, they’re putting their money into dog sled races and community music festivals. The strategy is interesting: why compete for attention at a cannabis expo when you can be the only cannabis brand at the Iditarod? By focusing on broader community events rather than preaching to the converted, they’re normalizing cannabis, where it matters most, in everyday American life.
It’s the difference between talking to yourself and joining the conversation. Cannabis brands that only sponsor cannabis events are essentially running in place, competing for the same consumers who already know them. But show up at a charity golf tournament, a local marathon, or yes, a dog sled race, and suddenly you’re not a cannabis company, you’re a community partner that happens to sell cannabis.
Brian Applegarth, who created the California State Fair’s cannabis exhibit, refers to this approach as “destination stewardship,” building inclusive communities through strategic presence. TeeHC embodies this philosophy: it’s not asking golf to accommodate cannabis, it’s showing golf how cannabis already fits.
From Grassroots to Grass Greens
The sponsorship dynamics mirror Sturgis’s evolution perfectly. Just as Budweiser’s decades-long commitment transformed a biker rally into American tradition, cannabis brands are learning that legitimacy comes from consistent presence in unexpected places. MariMed’s exclusive cannabis sponsorship at major Boston music venues and American Weed Co.’s presenting sponsorship at Cali Vibes Festival show this pattern emerging within the last year.
But TeeHC and events like it represent the next evolution, as cannabis brands try to wedge themselves into mainstream events, they’re creating new cultural touchstones that feel mainstream from day one. When your networking event looks indistinguishable from any Fortune 500 company outing, except for the products being discussed, you’ve already won the normalization battle.
The Next Fairway
Three years in, TeeHC represents something larger than golf or even networking. It’s proof that cannabis has graduated from counterculture to country club culture without losing its soul. The same industry once defined by High Times centerfolds and head shop posters now includes Brooks Brothers-wearing executives discussing terpene profiles over Arnold Palmers.
The irony isn’t lost on anyone, least of all the attendees who once hid their consumption from parents who belonged to country clubs just like these. But that’s precisely why it matters. Every cannabis professional who books a tee time, every charity dollar raised, every legitimate business relationship formed on those links is another nail in prohibition’s coffin.
When Budweiser first showed up at Sturgis, bikers worried about selling out. Fifty years later, nobody questions whether beer belongs at a motorcycle rally. Cannabis is writing the same story, just with a better short game.
Could we see cannabis brands alongside Rolex and Titleist as PGA Tour sponsors? Five years ago, that would’ve been a pipe dream. Today, watching suited professionals at TeeHC discuss interstate commerce while waiting to tee off, it feels less like fantasy and more like inevitability.
From sneaking joints in the rough to potential PGA sponsorships—that’s one hell of a long drive. But then again, cannabis has always been good at playing through.
Photos courtesy of Benjamin Wight
This article is from an external, unpaid contributor. It does not represent High Times’ reporting and has not been edited for content or accuracy.
The post Fore Twenty: How Cannabis Crashed the Country Club first appeared on High Times.