I met Jim Cobb in the summer of 1970. Our family had started attending Peoples Temple in early June that same year. We were a part of the San Francisco African American Baptist worshipers who found Jim Jones’ charismatic style interesting, and on weekends we made the 120-mile trip from San Francisco to Redwood Valley to hear him preach.
The youth in the Temple were engaging and very welcoming, but I noticed that there were not many African Americans. There were basically three families – that of Archie and Rosie Ijames, that of Minnie Buckley, and that of Christine Cobb – but it was Ava, Teri and Jim Cobb whom I befriended.
I soon found out that we would all be attending college in the fall. Ava strongly suggested that Jim pick up an application for me, and he delivered it to me the following Sunday. And just like that, I became one the “College Kids”.
Although I never asked about it, I was intrigued by the fact that all of Jim Cobb’s siblings called him by his full name. It was evident that he was the older brother and commanded a role as leader in the family structure. I later learned that Jim was a “Junior,” that he carried his father’s name. I also found out that they had moved from Indiana to Redwood Valley. Jim was not very much older than his siblings, but he quietly demonstrated his ability to make decisions and work to get the task done.
So from the first meeting throughout our association in Peoples Temple, I respected Jim Cobb. He was a young man who, although not perfect, would stand on basic principle. He was one of the youth group leaders in the dorms, and he worked with the others to teach skills and help present the teachings that we would need in order to be able to contribute to the group.
Jim Cobb was resilient and competent in his quiet way to press forward in completing what needed to get done. For example, he and Mike Cartmell would organize grueling hikes to show us that we possessed strength that we had no idea was in us.
It wasn’t long before he and others transferred to universities in San Francisco. That kind of brought some of the youth to realize that Jim Jones’ civil rights motivational teachings were no longer at the forefront. I saw Jim Cobb rarely in those days, and when I did, he appeared disengaged and aloof. I just thought maybe the studying was getting to him.
Meanwhile, the dynamics of the Peoples Temple hierarchy appeared to be shifting right along with the tone of the messages from the pulpit. It was not lost on some of us who were ripe for the big change we had been studying and preparing to be a part of. So on Labor Day weekend, September 1973, a group of eight youth did the unthinkable. We defected.
Jim Cobb had left one time before, so he was ready to exercise this plan, which was as emotional and exhilarating as it was daring. We did not have much money, and ended up camping on lakes in Montana and Idaho. Jim came through for us by going back to California and recovering some of his funds he intended for the next semester of school. That helped sustain us and enabled us to rent a house.
I recall the time he walked several miles in the snow to where we were camped. He did not have a jacket and only was wearing loafers. Some Samaritan had driven him part of the way from the Greyhound bus station. We were all thankful.
Three years later, in 1976, I was accepted in the Radiology Technology program at University of California-San Francisco. One day in the hallway I saw a group of students wearing white jackets. There was one African American. It was Jim Cobb. He was in the School of Dentistry. We had gone from being defectors who had survived camping on lakes in Montana to being accepted in a school that was still pretty much segregated.
Linda Mertle and I went to visit Jim the evening before he passed away. It was hard but I am grateful to have had the opportunity to spend some time with him and say goodbye to this amazing man. Jim Cobb was one of those people who always made things work out when it appeared impossible when looking in from the outside.
So long, Jim Cobb. Thank you for sharing your quiet determination with a sister. Your story will live on to infinity. As Stevie Wonder sang in the song, “As”:
But you can bet your lifetimes that and twice it’s double
That God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed.
(Vera Washington was among the Eight Revolutionaries who left Peoples Temple in 1973. Her previous articles can be found here. She can be reached at reginav8@yahoo.com.)