Elmer Lam's wonderful life

I write this to you from Virginia, which is very appropriate because the subject of this message is about a true gentleman from Virginia you should know. He passed away Wednesday night. His name was Elmer Lam, and he was the son of the air brake shop head at the Norfolk & Western shops in Roanoke, Va. When he died in Charlotte, N.C., he had done a remarkable thing: He’d saved a railroad museum, one that is close to me, North Carolina Transportation Museum, and one that is well known to many of you as the site of the 2012 Heritage Unit gathering, the 2014 Streamliners at Spencer festival, and the site of 2015’s restoration of N&W Class J No. 611. Elmer didn’t do it alone, of course, but he certainly deserves the majority of the credit. I know because I was with him for most of that as a volunteer.

I met Elmer on, of all things, a steam train excursion with No. 611 as power in the fall of 1990. The train was taking a secondary route and because the J needed her tires turned, she was a bit slippery on the light rail. We stalled in the woods south of Winston-Salem, N.C., and Elmer and I had the chance to talk for an extended period of time. He was retiring as a fiber salesman for DuPont and he was eager to see the museum, then in very rough condition, flourish. The buildings were crumbling and it didn’t seem like it would be long before Elmer and I would witness one of more of the historic structures in a pile of rubble.

Fortunately, that wasn’ t going to happen on Elmer’s watch. He set his mind to finding a source of money, and after another colleague of ours, the late Ed Hendricks, a Wake Forest University history professor, educated us about ISTEA grants, Elmer was in Raleigh, talking to the N.C. Department of Transportation, talking to legislators, talking to anyone he could. He was determined.

If there was anyone lesson to be learned from Elmer, it was to be dogged in your pursuit of your goals. Keep talking to everyone you can find about your plans, your accomplishments, and your hopes and dreams. Enlist anyone and everyone. More than anything, keep seeking out those folks who are sympathetic to your cause and ask them to help. Don’t be shy. Just ask.  Asking is a powerful thing.

The other lesson is one that I stole, and I think Elmer did too, from Woody Allen: 80 percent of success is just showing up. Appearing on the scene injects an amazing and transformative power that does more good than a call or an email or a text ever can. I will never forget Elmer taking a trip on Amtrak’s Carolinian passenger train. There was a private car on the train, and the owner invited him back to ride. Elmer sat down next to Howard Waddell, and the two struck up a conversation about the future of an Atlantic Coast Line Ten-Wheeler, No. 1031, which had been on display in Florence, S.C., for years and was facing an uncertain fate. By the time Elmer left the train, No. 1031 had a new home at Spencer, and both men were happy and relieved that a fine locomotive would be preserved. Did I tell you that Elmer was a good salesman?

I could tell you many stories about Elmer, our ups and downs, our travels, and how the man was like a father to me after my own dad passed away in 1993. But let me plant one idea in your mind about this courtly man. He was railway preservation’s Jimmy Stewart character in the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Elmer led an amazing life with three great kids and a wonderful wife. His railroad passion was a part of his being, and he felt it his duty to give back, to pass it along to the next generation.

I think about that when I think of the people who enjoyed the heritage unit or streamliner festivals or 611’s rebirth in the roundhouse. None of those events would have happened if the roundhouse hadn’t been there, and the roundhouse wouldn’t be there today if it were not for Elmer and the hard work he did 20 and 25 years ago. Much like the Jimmy Stewart character in the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life,” Elmer changed the course of railway preservation, he changed lives, he made things possible that we appreciate and enjoy today and will enjoy for decades and centuries in the future.

Thank you, Elmer, my friend, for your wonderful life. And for sharing it with us.