San Clemente resident Ed Norwood said that looking at old photos of his cousins and family members is still “deeply painful.”
Norwood lost 27 of his family members in the Jonestown massacre, the infamous mass suicide that occurred in South America on Nov. 18, 1978. It was the most significant loss of U.S. civilian life, in a non-natural disaster, before the terrorist attacks of September 11.
“I just remember seeing less of them for some time, up until the images on television came out,” Norwood said. “They were scrolling the names of all the loved ones on the television screen. It hurts less as so many years have passed, but I think it’ll always hurt.”
Saturday, Nov. 18 marks the 45th anniversary of the Jonestown massacre.
The expression “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid,” which became popular after the events at Jonestown, often refers to people who follow what they hear at face value. It’s a reference to the killing of 918 people — including around 300 children — with cyanide-laced Flavor Aid, ordered by cult leader Jim Jones.
At least 70 of those found dead in Jonestown were injected with the poison, which many say calls into question whether they committed suicide or were murdered.
Jonestown was a commune in Guyana occupied by a now-defunct religious group called the Peoples Temple, which had a big following in San Francisco, its headquarters, and in Los Angeles. Members were attracted to the temple’s bold social activism and counterculture, as well as its claims to be an integrated church that emphasized racial equality.
The Guyana commune was named after Peoples Temple founder and leader, Jones, a white minister known for having extreme religious beliefs that some say veered on extremist communism.
With its San Francisco and L.A. chapters both established in 1965, the Peoples Temple had a majority Black congregation, according to Fielding McGehee III, co-director and lead researcher of the Jonestown Institute. Based out of San Diego State University, the Jonestown Institute holds information on the commune, including those who died, court records, affidavits, articles, archival images, public records and personal accounts from survivors and family members.
Peoples Temple members started moving to Jonestown in 1977, after Jones became paranoid about the growing scrutiny his church was receiving in the U.S. Jones recruited around 1,000 members to come to Guyana and live together.
Survivors of Jonestown said there were consequences — and severe retaliation — for those who tried to leave. Many classified Jones as a cult leader, saying he had extreme New Age ideologies during the time, and said he started out more confident and even charismatic as a leader. But as time went on, many believed Jones exhibited delusional and paranoid extremism.
Norwood was around age 6 when his family came to Jonestown. He recalls their experience — and the aftermath of survival — in his 2021 book, “Be a Giant Killer,” where he calls Jones a “murderous giant,” socialist, communist and “extreme terrorist.”
“Jim Jones came at a time where there was a lot of racial inequality. Systemic racism was really prevalent, and he preached a message of hope,” Norwood, now 53, said. “He preached that people can escape poverty, escape homelessness, escape the life they lived in. And so it was attractive… I absolutely loved it. There was inclusion, there was community. Everything that they do is to attract families, and family after family.”
While never a formal member, Norwood frequented the San Francisco Peoples Temple as a child, and spent most of the time playing with his seven cousins who would later be Jonestown victims. Norwood said he survived because of a vision. Years before the massacre, his mom had visions that Jones would kill her family in a jungle, so he was barred from going to the church.
“How did 1,000 people get to the jungles of South America? It was partly by following a man, but it was also families following families,” Norwood said.
He recalled the night before his grandmother left for Jonestown. There had been a fight between his mom and grandmother, resulting in harsh words and hurt feelings.
“My grandmother was packing a suitcase while I was wrapped around her waist, begging her to stay. I thought she was just going for the night,” he said. “I never saw her again.”
Jonestown survivor Deborah Layton — a former Peoples Temple financial secretary — shared stories of the commune in a signed affidavit published in June 1978, a few months before the massacre. Urging the U.S. government to get involved, Layton wrote that members who turned away from the organization were regarded as traitors. She highlighted about severe corporal punishment that gave threats “a frightening air of reality.”
“I believe their lives are in danger,” Layton said, calling on the government to “help save the people of Jonestown.”
Layton also claimed that Jones convinced Black temple members “that if they did not follow him to Guyana, they would be put into concentration camps and killed.” White members were also told they were on a hit list, considered “enemies of the state,” and would be “tracked down, tortured, imprisoned and subsequently killed if they did not flee to Guyana.”
Temple members were required to work in the fields from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m., six days per week, Layton said.
“Conditions had become so bad that half of Jonestown was ill with severe diarrhea and high fevers. I was seriously ill for two weeks. Like most of the other sick people, I was not given any nourishing foods to help recover. I was given water and a tea drink until I was well enough to return to the basic rice and beans diet,” the affidavit said.
Survivor and Long Beach resident Herbert Newell joined the L.A. Peoples Temple in 1975. Newell went to Jonestown in March of 1978.
“Most of my family was already over there,” Newell said. “I was the last family member to go over there — and the last to return.”
Newell said he lost 11 family members in the killings, and only survived because he was out of town on the day of the November massacre.
San Bernardino County resident Hue Fortson Jr. said that he and his wife joined the Peoples Temple L.A. chapter in 1970.
“My first wife and I were looking for places where we could serve people. We were pretty active in our other church, but we just felt like there was something missing,” Fortson Jr., 72, said. “We kind of fell in love with the place because there were all races of people, and things that they were doing for the community, as well as individual church members. It was exciting so we jumped in — hook, line and sinker.”
Fortson Jr.’s wife, Rhonda, went to Jonestown first with their child in October 1977. Fortson Jr. joined them the following year, and lived at the commune for less than a year.
He remembers seeing harrowing, “eerie” behavior from Jones. As time went on, Jones became “increasingly more paranoid” and pushy with his communism teachings, Fortson Jr. said. His increased obsession with controlling temple members also got worse. In some cases, men at the commune “were taken to the bathroom area under armed guards,” and not allowed to pee while standing.
Fortson Jr. also said that no one was allowed to have their own medication, and all residents had to go to a specific building to take medicine at scheduled times.
One incident he will never forget was when Jones would tell followers, “If we give our lives for socialism tonight, I’ll resurrect everyone in the morning.”
“So he began to ask different people to stand up, and ask, ‘Are you willing to die for this cause?’ A lot of people stood up and said that they’d rather die with Jones than live without him, because he’s been the best thing to them.”
Still, Fortson Jr. said he never thought that people would actually die.
“He promised a lot of stuff — but we had no idea it would go to this,” he said.
Fortson Jr. lost his first wife and child in the massacre. He survived because he had been sent to the U.S. as a security guard to Jones’ wife, Marceline, in September 1978 — just two months before the tragedy. Marceline Jones went back to the commune a few weeks before the massacre, but Fortson was ordered to stay in the U.S. for another month.
He learned about the killings through San Francisco Mayor George Moscone, who was assassinated a week later, unrelated to what happened in Jonestown.
“I just stood there, in shock,” Fortson Jr. said. “What made it worse was that other people were finding out that their loved ones were among the numbers, and they were coming to me and I was consoling them. It was about a week before I actually got a confirmation that they had found Rhonda’s body.”
Most of the people who died in Jonestown are buried at the Evergreen Cemetery in Oakland. Each anniversary, the cemetery hosts a memorial for the victims, where survivors can also gather. This year’s anniversary gathering is on Saturday, Nov. 18 at the Evergreen Cemetery. More information is available at jonestownmemorial.com.
Norwood will be signing his book, “Be A Giant Killer,” at an event Sunday, Nov. 19 at the Huntington Beach Barnes and Noble.
He said he felt it was essential to acknowledge and share his family’s — and hundreds of others’ — painful history.
“We can’t go forward unless we look back,” he said.
If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts, contact the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988 on your phone or by visiting 988lifeline.org.
