By Gairt Edwards

I stepped up to the platform to cross the historic pedestrian bridge in Abingdon. As the planks creaked and settled under my feet, I paused and looked at the series of railroad tracks below. I lived beside these tracks for three years, but it wasn’t until I met Lynda Campbell that I truly learned to love the trains themselves.

Mrs. Campbell greeted me out of her second story cubby, “I usually come in through here,” she smiled. The warmth of the interior blanketed me as Mrs. Campbell offered me a seat.

“As you may know, the Foreman House is now over 150 years old,” she spoke without hesitation. I could tell Mrs. Campbell knew the story well. This was not something that she had to relearn for tours or curious guests. Her knowledge of the history showed an adept appreciation for the house with respect to the house’s many duties throughout the past one and a half centuries.

She lead me into a bedroom with two beds and draped curtains that lined the walls. “This is called the Pullman Room. You see it is designed after a sleeper car, and on those cars the guests could open and close the curtains for privacy.” The room was like nothing I had seen before. The cozy feel of the crème-colored fabric was soothing. I felt myself calm.

As we entered te next room, Mrs. Campbell explained, “This is the Ratcliff Room. Captain Bill used to come up here and smoke. He loved this room.” I thought this room would be perfect to just sit and read on a late night. The table was host to old newspaper articles and the trinkets around the room matched the décor perfectly. It felt like very little had changed in the accruing years of the house. Mrs. Campbell walked over to the wall and opened a door that revealed a closet that connected to an adjacent room, which I would soon get to see. “That is the Elsie’s room. That was Captain Bill’s daughter.”

We walked past the staircase that would later lead us to the first floor of the house. “This room has a great view of the pedestrian bridge and the trains. It is the only pedestrian bridge that goes over the railroad in this region.” Mrs. Campbell moved through the room and pointed out the antique tubular brass bed. “This bed is an expensive item now.” This room contains a mixture of old world feel and a certain eloquence that I really liked. We continued the interview down the stairs.

“Have you ever heard of the Belmont?” Mrs. Campbell asked.

“No, I haven’t.”

“It was a hotel that used to be where the post office is now. It was a New Orleans style hotel, but it went out of business. It was beautiful, and some of the antique furniture here is from the Belmont. Some other furniture is from the Martha Washington.” It was here that I realized that Mrs. Campbell was an avid collector of antiques, and that the Foreman House itself was not only a large addition to her collection but acted as a showcase for her most cherished pieces.

The stairs lead us into the Childress Room which displays a photo of Captain Bill himself. This room is newer and has walled-in heaters and a sofa that was extremely inviting.

“That piano and sofa are the only two pieces that were left in the house by the Childress’s.” Part of the wall is left exposed to show the way it had been constructed when the house was built. “It’s so hard to heat this house during the winter months. I mean, you know, now walls are made up with insulation and layers to keep the heat in, but here, the walls can’t be insulated like that because of the way it is built.” Mrs. Campbell ran her hand down the exposed wall as she spoke. We then moved on to the room that was named after Captain Bill’s wife.

Walking into Grace Room, I spied a photograph on the dresser of a young girl with her father. “That was Grace.” Mrs. Campbell said. I walked to the window and peered out on the view. “The flowers and landscape are beautiful during the spring and summer months,” Mrs. Campbell commented.

Retreating back through the Childress Room, Mrs. Campbell folded two standing screens that opened up to the kitchen and Train Room. Inside was a photograph of the foremen in the region who had documented an award in the N & W magazine for their close care of the railroad tracks. The kitchen, named the Wall Street Room, shelves antique doorknobs and expresses some of the more eccentricities of decorating.

This house is quaint and rich in history. The furnishings embody the ambiance of the Foreman House and the hard-working train managers that worked the tracks for years. The house welcomes the passing engines as the rush of wind embraces the exterior walls.

Walking back to my car, I stopped again and saw Abingdon in a different light. It is a town made from hard-working families and deep historical roots. The Foreman House is one of the few buildings left that awakens one to the changes that occur as time passes but still holds great respect and gratitude for the past.