Krishna Consciousness Invades The T-Shirt Trade. By Tim Vanderpool EACH MORNING, members of the Sri Lam Temple on Miracle Mile's motel row welcome sunrise with moving prayers to Lord Krishna. And every day since December, Biswas Biplab, a young temple devotee, has greeted crowds of tourists pouring through Sabino Canyon with piles of splashy T-shirts priced to move. Biplab doesn't preach to his hordes of customers. In fact, he prefers to keep the subject under his hat, in today's case a black baseball cap emblazoned with "Hawaii" across the top. Nor does his merchandise so much as mention Sri Ram, a small, Hawaii-based Hare Krishna splinter group. Instead, he's content just hawking innocuous shirts to gawking pilgrims from places like Des Moines and St. Louis, folks who may not know Sri Ram from noodle soup, but recognize a good deal when they see it. Coincidentally, Biplab's wares are several bucks cheaper than their officially sanctioned rivals inside Sabino Canyon's visitors' center. That means up to $400 a day for the Miracle Mile temple, money that secures a roof over the disciples' chanting heads, and keeps U.S. Forest Service officials seething. Biplab dismisses the bureaucratic rancor, as he hands a cow-skull shirt to a frail grandmother from Oklahoma City. "Yes, we do have that one in medium," he tells her, before briefly turning away. "We've never been made to move this table," he then explains in hushed tones. "We can be here because of our First Amendment rights." But whether that constitutional freedom comes in sizes large enough to sanction Biplab's enterprise is a point of contention, according to UA Law Professor Robert Glennon. While religious groups have a green light to spout their beliefs on street corners and in parks, he says the matter gets a bit trickier when it comes to federal land. "It can be problematic," Glennon says. "It depends specifically on how that property is used. For example, the Forest Service may say they're blocking egress or regress, and could remove them." In other words, vendors like Biplab could be booted if they're cramping the flow of traffic. Commercial activity, religious or otherwise, also raises a cactus-patch of issues, he says. And the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, passed by Congress a few years back to protect spiritual activities, further muddies the issue. That law has prompted a Supreme Court peek into the matter, with no decisions clearly affecting the Sabino Canyon situation. Meanwhile, other groups have expressed interest in milking Sabino's tourists, says Tom Quinn, head ranger for the U.S. Forest Service's Santa Catalina District. Quinn says Iskcon, a fund-raising arm of the Hare Krishna sect, asked for permission to set up shop, before Sri Ram beat them to the draw. He says Iskcon is best known locally for operating Govinda's Natural Foods Buffet. The entire dilemma currently rests with federal attorneys, Quinn says, and they've advised him to keep quiet. Still, he does say, "The service hasn't yet made a decision on (Sri Ram's) allegations" that they're simply exercising their rights. "At a local level, we haven't taken legal action. But I think I can say, without going too far out on a limb, that it seems like Sri Ram has selected this as a test case." The temple's incursion has also become a test of wills, with Sabino officials offering Biplab hints that they're hardly thrilled by his presence. "These groups are apparently exercising their rights of religious expression, and no proceeds from the sale of these items are retained in Sabino Canyon or by the U.S.D.A. Forest Service," say a pair of snippy signs flanking his table. And canyon workers recently reached into their arsenal of subterfuge, when they briefly perched a well-used Porta Potty near the Sri Ram stand. But the move was simply due to a construction project, says Sabino recreation staffer Paula Huter. "It isn't that (Sri Ram's) presence is taking up a lot of space," she adds. "It's more of an aesthetic issue." Today, a different aesthetic notion is on the minds of John and Joyce Glassin, a Cleveland couple who just handed Biplab $24 for a pair of shirts emblazoned with enormous saguaros, "Arizona" in big block letters, and at the bottom, "Protect and Preserve." Later, the Glassins said they didn't realize they were coughing up cash for a fringe religious sect. "We didn't see the signs," John Glassin says. "We sure didn't know they weren't connected to the canyon." "Yeah," his wife Joyce says. "We don't like fanaticism." Biplab admits he doesn't exactly emphasize the Sri Ram affiliation. "And whether the Forest Service allows us to stay depends upon their hearts," he says. "Hare Krishna is our special master, and our profits help support his special instructions." As a sightseer-packed shuttle roars by, another shopper, Chris Medvescek of Tucson, says she doesn't give a hoot whose drum Biplab is marching to. "Basically, these are just great prices for T-shirts," she says. "I don't see anything offensive about that." Photo by Dominic Oldershaw

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