I first met Jim Cobb when I was 13 years old and he was one of the leaders of the youth group in the Redwood Valley Peoples Temple. Jim was attending community college in Santa Rosa together with other students who – like Jim – would eventually become disenchanted with Jim Jones and leave.
Jim Cobb was tall, but not intimidating. His spirit radiated compassion, and his laughter was infectious. His sister Sandi and I became best friends, and eventually I looked up to Jim as a big brother.
He taught me how to play Gin Rummy, but more than that, he challenged me: “When you can beat me,” he said, “you will be good.” So every time we had a chance to play, we did. One weekend while Temple services were being held in Los Angeles, we found space outside on the front stairs to play. That was the day I beat him, and he was proud. “I taught you well,” he said. I beamed with pride.
When the news came that Jim Cobb and seven other college students left Peoples Temple, I did not believe the story that Jim Jones told the congregation about their departure. Something had to be wrong for them to leave. I would not find the real reasons until years later.
Jim visited Jonestown in November 1978 with Congressman Leo Ryan, to see his mother Christine and his siblings Ava, Sandi, Joel, Johnny and Brenda. My heart was racing when I saw him. My legs wanted to move, and I wanted to scream his name. Even in those moments I saw his smile. Of course, I could not go and speak to him, but we had a glance.
Jim’s entire family perished, all except for himself and his brother Johnny, who was in Georgetown with the basketball team.
Jim and I stayed in sporadic contact over the years, and I especially cherish the time I had with him in 2011 at the Jonestown memorial service. He was well loved and will be missed by many.
Rest in peace, my friend.
(Leslie is a regular contributor to the jonestown report and the author of Slavery of Faith. Her earlier writings are collected here. She can be reached via leslie.wagnerwilson@yahoo.com.)