The following pages of grandpa's hand written notes [transcribed by Martha H. Miller] begins with a thought to explain how and why his name is not S W Thornton, as those before, but that theme seems to be overlooked as he continued this sketch. The "Blackburn" name is explained in his Biography elsewhere.

                                    AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH or

                                                The Highlights of My Life

1. My Childhood---My “Blackburn” Name

I was born in St. Joseph, Mo. August 6, 1875 in the parsonage of the First Methodist Church of which my Father was Pastor. As there could be no Biography without parents it would be inexcusable not to say a few words re them to whom I am more and more conscious that I owe more than I owe to any other person in the Universe next to God and His Son.

My father, S.W., was born in 1841 northern Ohio in a little one room cabin as the only child of two poor but godly young people. His father Samuel Watson, was a preacher in the Free Will Baptist Church and literally preached himself to death at the age of 23, a death due to exposure. He never saw the face of his son who was to bear his name and follow his steps in the ministry.

His mother, Mary, lived 3 years after giving birth to her son and then smitten with Quick- or as it was called in those days –Galloping Consumption, leaving her orphan son to her mother. But not before she had transmitted her unfeigned faith to her child. i.e. never an unbeliever th(roughou)t(?) a follower of Christ. She was known throughout that poor(?) country as a Christian who had a gift of faith whereby she, as those unnamed women in Heb. 11 - brought great things to pass. Her prayers brought victory out of defeat-light out of darkness. This testimony followed her death- she was long remembered by her generation in her community.

It is not strange that is that she made impressions on the mind and life of her son even before he was 3 years old that affected his entire life. One of these had to do with the matter of obedience. My father remembered a day when he said “I will not do it and you are too sick to make me. Her mother was present nursing her. What wisdom. “Foolishness is bound up in the heart etc……… She said “Mary, you must whip that child and drive that spirit of rebellion out of his heart”. Then she went out into the yard and cut a little switch & put it in her daughter’s hand. With a prayer that God would bless her discipline she lifted herself up and whipped him.

My father told me and publicly told the world that all that was crystal clear, and “That foolishness bound up in his heart was by that rod of correction driven far from him”. So real was the transaction that never in all his life did he rebel against constituted authority.

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Added to that was the fact that shortly before her death his mother drew him to her side and laying her hands on his head, she commended him to God as the Father of The Fatherless and asked God to make him a minister of The Gospel. This to him was a holy ordination.

Years passed, years of labor, of study, of teaching school, of service in the Civil War, thro all of which he did not profess to be a Christian. Then he married my mother, a bright lively girl but from an ungodly home. Then following the war he moved westward to Atchison Co. MO, and began teaching, 3 little girls came to them and then in one week all died of Black Diphtheria. Then came his awakening, his conversion, a clear call to separate himself to the ministry. He united with the Methodist Church and entered the ministry of that denomination. Three sons were born, of these I was the third.

When I was three years old my Father heard of the great need in the far west for ministers and left St. Jo 1^st Chu.. (St Joseph, MO., 1^st Methodist Church) - to serve as Home missionary on the U.P. Ry (Union Pacific Railway)- just completed 8 yrs before. His Parish extended from Ogden, Utah East for 600 miles along the Railroad. Home was in Evanston, Wyo.

This was just a railroad town. All the houses were painted Railroad red to harmonize with the Depot and Ry buildings- Chu. Parsonage & all at that time. No trees, no lawns, no running water. Several impressions have remained thro the years. A mad charging bull broke out of the loading corral—shouting men then leaped over me as I sat playing in the dust. My first Chinaman, imported to build railroad (turned gardeners)-basket of vegetables on long pole over shoulder-fancy straw hats-

Then a long train trip back to Indiana-my first remembered green fields & trees – of riding in farm wagon thru drizzling rain-the broad backs of horses with tails tied in knots-

Then – Greeley, Colo. Beautiful Greeley- water from the large irrigation ditch running down small ditches down the sides of every street- the little wooden gates to let the water flow into the lawn and gardens, but to me chiefly to ear along my little boats- and everywhere trees- trees- and flowers and fruit on plants, bushes, trees. Huge water melons as large as I was- Play, play, play- Then my first day at school and my first school books full of pictures.

Then the long trip to Colo. Spgs for Annual Conf- and my mothers sudden chill at which we all laughed and piled blankets on her. But it was the beginning of 8 long

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years of suffering and pain of which she never complained. But we moved again & again seeking relief- To Denver, to Central City, to New Mexico, Vegas, Albuquerque- then back to Denver where in 1889 on a cold cloudy winter day she fell asleep. During all this time my Father preached and traveled constantly, a quiet, strong, patient man. Never in all those debt burdened days do I remember any unkind words in our home. Of those years a family physician friend who was very intimate said of my father - “He was one among millions. The purest man I ever knew”. There was never any noise or confusion in our home. But no hardness or enforced quietness but quiet, orderly living. This is one of my sweetest memories, an atmosphere of love and peace. I early learned the holy quietness of a godly home, a little sanctuary in midst of a stormy, violent & tumultuous world.

But what of my phy- moral & spiritual development during

What a wonderful childhood. Of life in my home there is not one incident to mar.

While outside of my house I lived in the ever exciting pioneer atmosphere of the early west, among Indians, cowboys, miners. The days just after the Custer Massacre- The Meeker outrage. Mrs. Meeker lived by us in Greeley in deep seclusion- Col. Chivington-a visitor in our home- Maxwell the first truck? Trick? Murderer being brought back from Australia handcuffed to his captor eating Breakfast in Las Vegas. Then there came the train bearing Geronimo & his Apache warriors on their way to prison- And then the colored Cavalry (at Green’s Lake) who aided in his capture.

While at Albuquerque I saw Soapy Smith, later to die in Alaska, the night he was shot and robbed-in Albuquerque- and the sheriff’s posse ride out to surround and kill the robbers- Smith to go on…

                            The man who killed Jesse James was living in Vegas                                                                   

Such was the early period till I was 12. Then* came the day when my soul was awakened from death (from among the dead), by The Voice

(*this statement is meant as a reminder to himself to include at a later point (during the years in India) his confrontation with the Holy Spirit over the use of God’s Word)

Before this however, the faithful discipline

1. sex

2. obedience

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With such a background, such a home, such parents, such a heritage of righteousness & temperance it was not strange that I had a very acute & tender Conscience. But I was to learn early that family worship and church & S.S. attendance and Band of Hope temperance pledges were not enough.

Many parents are deceived about their own children and their great responsibility before God for them.

Instruction on these matters is not enough. Too often it removes fear, and often leads to the commission of the very thing- by informing the imagination and showing ways to satisfy curiosity without fear of consequence -- nothing but a fear of God, and consequences will save the soul.

I am sure there is no corruption so absolutely insane as that which flourishes in the realm of the sex life. Oh, the depths of uncleanness to which the soul sinks and the vile imaginations which pollute every part of the heart of man and fill the mind, until the thoughts, affections and will are all possessed by unreasonable & moral desires that----------

In addition to the curiosity in matter of sex which the idle talk which goes on in groups of boys and girls arouses and provokes unclean investigation there seems to be a spirit aroused that is never satisfied until it defiles others with the same pollution. The Bible speaks of “the corruption that is in the world through lust”, and that is just it. Just as Leprosy and cancer reach out and lay hold on good clean flesh to impart its uncleanness. This is something worse than those forms of evil like drink & narcotics which men propagandize for the sake of personal gain. This is a madness to defile something pure, beautiful & wholesome and bring it down to -----                                 end JBT sketch