It looked as though Illinois would sidestep bureaucratic snares and launch a recreational marijuana market faster by legalizing pot sales through legislation instead of a voter referendum, as other states have done.

But citizens are having their say anyway—often for hours at a time, in front of city councils, village boards and planning commissions, from Mundelein to Murphysboro.

"Because Illinois was unique in doing it legislatively, communities had less involvement in the lead-up to passing the law, so they're using public hearings to have their voices heard," says Dina Rollman, senior vice president of government and regulatory affairs at Green Thumb Industries, a Chicago-based cannabis company.

Democracy at the local level can be painfully slow, presenting potential problems for an aggressive timetable to launch recreational cannabis sales by Jan. 1. State law legalized recreational marijuana usage, but, like many other states, Illinois left it up to cities and towns to decide whether to allow retail sales in their communities. Weed companies need local approval to set up shop, adding an element of uncertainty to one of the most significant public policy changes Illinois has seen in years. So far, a dozen towns have approved recreational sales, including Lombard and Joliet. A half-dozen communities, including Wheaton and Lake Zurich, have voted to ban marijuana retailers. Votes are pending in at least two dozen more communities.

Local officials who often weren't involved in the lawmaking process in Springfield have found themselves at the center of an often-contentious public debate that never really happened before the state law was passed at the end of May. It's been a revealing civics lesson.

In Naperville, which voted to prohibit retail sales pending a local referendum, its Aug. 20 City Council meeting went until 2:30 a.m., the longest ever in the city.

In Mundelein, the village computer server bogged down under heavy traffic ahead of a public hearing Sept. 23 that featured three hours of lively public comment about the pros and cons of allowing recreational marijuana sales. It was the most interest by the public in any issue before the village board in 10 years, says Mayor Steve Lentz.

"It was good for the community," says Lentz. The board voted 4-2 to permit a medical marijuana dispensary in Mundelein to sell to recreational users.

"I have not seen a policy debate where every community has to contend with the same issue, one of this magnitude that's as complex as this one, all at once," says Stew Weiss, an attorney in Chicago at Holland & Knight, which is general counsel for 10 suburbs and advises a dozen more. "It's not like a bond sale or a complex pension issue. This is a topic that's digestible by the public. They can form an opinion without reading a white paper."

In many communities, the debate has focused on economics. Municipalities can charge a sales tax of up to 3 percent on marijuana sales. Estimates have ranged from $300,000 to $500,000 in additional local tax revenue, depending on the size of the community.

But the discussion also revolves around less-tangible but emotionally powerful issues, including morality and self-image. Wendy Meister-Louria told the Mundelein Village Board she feared allowing recreational sales would hurt the town's image by turning it into "the weed capital of Lake County. That's not something I want."

Andrea Stoll saw it differently: "It's a low-risk, high-reward scenario," she said. "It will show us as having a progressive mindset."

Lawmakers who pushed legalization through the Legislature defend their approach, while acknowledging that local officials are fielding public feedback Springfield largely avoided.

"I think there's some truth to that," says Sen. Heather Steans, one of the authors of the law. "But you get many more advantages (from passing it legislatively)." Among the thorny issues codified in the 610-page bill were rules for licensing and operation of dispensaries, allocation of licenses around the state, and tax rates. But the question of where weed would be sold—effectively if it would be sold—was left up to communities.

Local officials have scrambled to get up to speed. At the Illinois Municipal League conference in downtown Chicago last month, a session on cannabis regulations was standing room only, with the biggest crowds anyone could remember.

"Because it wasn't a ballot initiative, most people aren't paying attention to what the General Assembly is doing," says Brad Cole, executive director of the Illinois Municipal League. "We're watching a major public policy debate at the local level, and that's OK. Local government is closest to the people, and that's where this conversation is happening."

The scenes have varied widely: from packed suburban village halls, reminiscent of a scene from "Footloose," to business as usual. Chicago held hourlong public meetings that were full but orderly, with residents mostly asking detailed questions about the licensing process.

"These have been some of the most interesting hearings of my career," says Weiss, the municipal attorney. "(Cannabis zoning) is a proxy for a much larger question about societal change. For the first time, I'm walking into these meetings, and I have no idea how it's going to turn out."