He was charming, he was notorious, and he had more aliases than a character in a spy novel. In the covert corners of 1980s drug lore, the name “Mr. Nice” carries a legendary aura. I first encountered it not through a person, but through a strain of hashish offered to me in a smoky café in Kathmandu: “Try the Mr. Nice, very strong,” the vendor whispered. The smoke was indeed strong, but the story behind the name? Even stronger. Mr. Nice was the underworld moniker of Howard Marks, an Oxford-educated Welshman who became one of the world’s most prolific cannabis smugglers and later a folk hero of sorts. Buckle up as we dive into the insane, gonzo life of the man behind the smiley pseudonym.

Howard Marks: From Oxford to Outlaw: Howard Marks was born in a simple coal mining village in Wales in 1945. By all accounts, he was a brainy kid – so bright that he earned a scholarship to Oxford University in the 1960s, ostensibly set on a straight path studying nuclear physics. But as fate (and perhaps a bit of boredom) would have it, young Howard discovered cannabis at Oxford and it was love at first puff. Picture the scene: swinging 60s Britain, tweed-clad academics secretly getting high in dorm rooms, the air thick with Dylan music and rebellion. Marks was a natural rebel with a massive brain and a disarming Welsh lilt. Soon, he realized there was money to be made (and adventure to be had) supplying cannabis to his free-spirited peers. What started as college dealing escalated, step by step, into a globe-trotting career in drug smuggling.

By the 1970s and 80s, Howard Marks had built an empire. At his peak, he was smuggling cannabis consignments as large as 30 tons – yes, tons, not pounds – moving them across continents . He wasn’t smuggling in duffel bags; we’re talking entire shiploads of hashish from Pakistan, or truckloads of marijuana from Thailand. Marks, ever the gentleman smuggler, eschewed violence. He famously allied himself with a motley crew of accomplices instead: he rubbed elbows with CIA agents, flirted with Irish militants of the IRA, played cat-and-mouse with MI6 (the British Secret Service), and even did business with the Italian Mafia . It reads like fiction, but he actually managed to navigate these underworld connections with wit and cheek. You see, Howard’s greatest weapon was his charisma. He wasn’t a Tony Montana brandishing guns; he was more like a cheeky James Bond of weed, relying on elaborate smuggling plots and a silver tongue.

One scheme had him smuggling cannabis inside musical equipment for touring bands. Another involved fake shipments of Islamic devotional textiles coming from Pakistan – with huge slabs of hash hidden among the carpets and prayer mats. He forged documents, created shell companies, and held numerous false passports. In fact, Marks was said to have up to 43 different aliases during his smuggling days . And it was one of those passports – a document he bought from an actual convicted murderer named Donald Nice – that birthed his famous nickname. Upon acquiring Mr. Nice’s identity for travel, Howard cheekily adopted “Mr. Nice” as his preferred alias . It was perfect: an innocuous, friendly-sounding moniker for a man moving black market mountains of cannabis.

The Legend of Mr. Nice: The late 70s and early 80s were Howard’s golden era – a wild ride of decadent smuggling escapades that took him around the world. Imagine private islands in the Indian Ocean as drop points, covert meetings in Bangkok alleyways, champagne toasts in London high-rises when a shipment made it through. And all the while, Howard Marks maintained the façade of a respectable businessman and doting father (he had a wife and kids, who by many accounts had little idea of the full extent of his exploits). His ability to blend in was uncanny. In photographs from the era, he looks like a polite schoolteacher – clean-cut, bespectacled, with a warm grin. Who would suspect this man of being an international drug kingpin?

But the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration) certainly did. After years of cat-and-mouse, the law finally caught up. In 1988, Howard was arrested by American DEA agents after an elaborate sting. The charges were staggering: racketeering and smuggling on a vast scale . In court, the U.S. prosecutors painted him as one of the most significant drug traffickers of his era – they weren’t wrong. He was convicted and handed a 25-year federal prison sentence . For many, that would be the end of the story: another drug trafficker fading into the gray oblivion of a jail cell. But Howard Marks was not one to be easily forgotten.

First off, even in prison he lived up to “Mr. Nice.” Fellow inmates and even some prison staff reportedly got a kick out of his erudite, laid-back demeanor. He wasn’t a typical criminal; he was a storyteller, a wit, and by then something of a minor celebrity in the UK press (the tabloids loved the Oxford smuggler angle). After serving 7 years of his sentence, Howard was released in 1995 for good behavior . The timing was fortuitous – the 90s were just when public attitudes toward cannabis were starting to soften. Instead of slinking away, Howard stepped into the limelight and told his story to the world.

From Outlaw to Folk Hero: In 1996, Howard Marks released his autobiography titled “Mr. Nice.” It became a bestseller almost overnight . The book is a rollicking, witty account of his adventures, part confessional, part high comedy. Reading it, you’re struck by how absurd some of his life was – truth really is stranger than fiction. The public lapped it up. Here was a guy who made fools of law enforcement, who (unlike the violent cartels) never hurt anyone, who loved weed and rock ’n’ roll, and who served time without losing his spirit. In an era where Britpop and Cool Britannia were on the rise, Howard became an unlikely pop-culture figure. He was invited on talk shows, and instead of remorse, he oozed charm and humor about his smuggling days. It was hard not to like the guy. He even joked about how while imprisoned he had finally gone “straight” – he got a degree in law behind bars just for something to do.

Post-prison, Howard Marks essentially transformed into a traveling raconteur. He did a one-man spoken word tour (imagine a stand-up comedy routine mixed with drug war anecdotes). He played to packed venues in the UK, recounting tales of disguising himself as an Irish priest to transport drugs or bluffing his way out of Interpol traps. Audiences roared with laughter and applause. It was as if Robin Hood had stepped out of Sherwood Forest and was now doing TED Talks. Except Howard’s “robbery” was supplying contraband herb to willing consumers, and the rich he was sticking it to was the establishment itself.

Why did Howard Marks become a folk hero? Partly because he embodied a rebellion that people found relatable – sticking it to draconian drug laws and having a grand adventure doing it. He also stood for the idea (especially later in life) that the drug war was unjust and that cannabis should be legalized. In the UK and elsewhere, he lent his now-considerable fame to advocacy, campaigning for drug law reform . It’s quite the character arc: the most wanted man becoming the most wanted speaker at legalization rallies. If Jack Herer (whom we met in a previous post) was the American activist angrily thumping the podium for hemp, Howard Marks was the British rogue charming the pants off the public while making the same point: this prohibition is nonsense, let’s fix it.

Mr. Nice in Pop Culture: His persona was irresistible to filmmakers too. In 2010, a biopic titled “Mr. Nice” (starring Rhys Ifans as Howard Marks) hit theaters, further cementing the legend. One of the promotional photos from the film shows Ifans as Howard, grinning widely in the 70s with mirrored shades – the epitome of carefree outlaw chic. Howard himself made cameo appearances in movies, recorded songs (yes, he tried his hand at being a DJ and even cut a reggae track), and constantly popped up on panel shows in the UK.

He also lent his brand to cannabis products – in legal markets today you might find “Mr. Nice Seeds” or cannabis clubs named in his honor. There’s even a cannabis strain called Mr. Nice, a potent indica hybrid of the strains G13 and Hash Plant, named after Howard’s alias and created by the legendary breeder Shantibaba in the 1990s. So like Jack Herer, Howard Marks has a botanical namesake – fitting for someone who moved literal tons of that plant in his lifetime. I’ve tried the Mr. Nice strain; it’s heavy, stony, perfect for an evening in – perhaps reflecting the chill vibes of the man himself.

Reflections of a Nice Guy: In his later years, Howard Marks mellowed out (as much as one can, having already been pretty mellow to start). He enjoyed his cult-celebrity status and continued to advocate for legalization, albeit with a knowing smile that said, “If only you knew the half of what I pulled off…” I had the chance to attend one of his spoken word shows in 2012 in London. With a pint in hand, I watched a 60-something Howard shuffle on stage – now with salt-and-pepper hair and a bit of a paunch – and he greeted the crowd with “Evenin’… let me tell you a story.” For the next hour and a half, he owned us. The way he described sneaking through airport security or faking identities, you couldn’t help but root for him, the ultimate underdog who outfoxed the system. There was a gleam in his eye as he delivered the final line of the night: “They called me Mr. Nice… but it wasn’t very nice of them to lock me up, was it?” The crowd roared. Here was a man who transformed a life of crime into a life of rhyme, reason, and laughter.

Howard Marks passed away in 2016 after a battle with cancer. Tributes poured in from all over the world – not just from the cannabis community, but from celebrities, musicians, writers, and ordinary folks who had read Mr. Nice and found him inspiring or at least hugely entertaining. The Guardian called him “an enduring icon of Britain’s counterculture.” And truly, he embodies a particular slice of countercultural history: when one smart hippie could play cat-and-mouse with international authorities and come out the other side to tell the tale.

The Duality of Mr. Nice: Now, not to varnish over the fact – Howard Marks was a drug smuggler. Some might argue whether what he did was right or wrong. But in the grand scheme of the drug war, his non-violent, almost prankster-esque approach and his later transparency tilt public opinion towards seeing him less as a criminal and more as a rebel with a cause. He often pointed out the hypocrisy of it all: how alcohol and tobacco, which harmed him (he was a heavy smoker of cigarettes which likely led to his cancer), were legal, while cannabis, which he saw healing cancer patients and sparking joy, was banned. He used his platform to make people question those inconsistencies.

“Who was Mr. Nice?” – He was a living contradiction: the drug lord who wouldn’t hurt a fly, the outlaw beloved by law-abiding citizens, the academic who found his true calling in the underground. If there’s one takeaway from Howard Marks’ story, it’s that life can be delightfully subversive. He showed that sometimes the biggest middle finger to the system can come with a polite smile and a wink. As I finish writing this, I spark up a bowl of that Mr. Nice strain and toast to Howard. Here’s to the charming rogue who made the world of cannabis a whole lot more interesting – a true Mr. Nice Guy in every sense of the word.