IRA M. MEAD, Midvale, New Jersey.
Few men now in the employ of the Erie have so early in life had their abilities and faithfulness rewarded as Ira M. Mead. He stands today as a fair representative of the younger element among American locomotive engineers. Born in Jersey City in 1865, he attended school up to the age of 17, having, however, for several years previous been employed, when out of school hours, in a turning mill. In 1882 he began work on the Greenwood Lake Division as a night watchman of engines, a position which he held for two years, and he attributes to the knowledge gained dur-ing this time the rapid advancement which fell to him after taking up service on the road itself. This he did in 1884, firing extra -- both freight and passenger -- for three years, then being promoted to the charge of an engine. For six months following his promotion he had the ice train, and then for a year and a half was employed in running extras, being given a regular passenger run in 1889, still being on the Greenwood Lake Division, that being the scene of his entire service in railroading.

Mr. Mead was married at Pompton, New Jersey, July 17, 1889, to Miss Leanore Hasbrouck, and they are now living at Midvale, New Jersey, with their two children, a little boy and a little girl. Though he is the owner of house property in Pompton it is impracticable for him to live there while keeping his present runs, Nos. 514 and 515, and Nos. 530 and 531, which keep his time busily employed every week day. At present his regular engine is No. 313. Mr. Mead became a member of the Jersey City Division of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers in 1888, being as soon as he was eligible under the rules. He is also a member of the Royal Arcanum, but is not to be considered in any sense as a "lodge" man, being a home lover in every respect. As to politics, while he does not neglect to vote, as all good citizens should, he is not a seeker for office, his inclinations not taking that bent.

During his experience he has never killed a man, never hurt a passenger nor a trainman. Twice it has happened to him to have trains from other roads crash into him at crossings, but on each occasion he followed the signals, and no blame was attached to him. On one occasion he saw a man lying with his head upon the rail in front of him, and slacking speed all that he was able the pilot pushed the man's head from the track, leaving him unharmed. The pilot was very low, and Mr. Mead says that he had for two weeks been trying to have it raised. Another time he met and passed the west bound train at West Arlington, and just before the two trains passed -- which was on the bridge -- he saw a man between the two tracks and blew for him. The man stepped right in front of his engine, having only seen the other train. In a moment more he saw his danger, and threw himself over the guard rail of the bridge, where he was found by the crew and the passengers a few moments later, hanging over a ravine sixty feet deep and unable to raise himself. When rescued some of the passengers wanted to thrash him.

Though Mr. Mead was so young when first promoted as to give rise to the remark, upon one occasion, "Do they have boys running engines on this road?" his future is secure, for the very qualities which placed him in his present position at so early an age are those which will contribute to his lasting success, and all who know him hope that it may be his, and in full measure.

Excerpted from: "American Locomotive Engineers, Erie Railway Edition," H.R. Romans Editor; Crawford-Adsit Company Publishers, Chicago, IL 1899.

From the August, 1919 issue of Erie Railroad Magazine:
New York Division engineer I. Meade discovered the Pequannock Bridge to be on fire recently. He took prompt action in extinguishing the flames and seeing that the bridge was safe for traffic. (p. 402)

From the May 16, 1922 issue of The New York Times:
Pompton, NJ, May 15 -- In what engineers of nearly a half-century of service declare to be the most remarkable rescue of their knowledge, John J. Cotter, locomotive engineer on the Greenwood Lake division of the Erie Railroad, Saturday afternoon, literally snatched a seventeen month old infant from under the wheels of his own locomotive after the emergency brakes had failed to halt his train. The child was the granddaughter of one of his closest friends and brother engineers in the same division.

Adele Lillian Cushmore, the baby daughter of Reginald Cushmore and the grandaughter of Ira M. Meade, lives in a house in Riverdale, the back yard of which extends to the tracks of the Greenwood Lake division. The child was playing in the back yard, and escaping her mother's eye made her way to the end of the yard.

The mother, missing her, saw the child climb the low railroad embankment just as Cotter's train bound from Riverdale came in sight. As the child reached the top of the embankment, she tripped and fell prone across the track. The train was not more than 200 yards away.

Cotter, at the throttle, immediately threw on the air and put every available mechanical force to work to cut down headway. He saw, however, that the heavy train would not stop in the space allotted. Jumping from his cab and climbing to the pilot, he dropped to the lowest step where he could reach forward a few scant inches ahead of the pilot. As the engine, moving slowly now, reached the child, Cotter grasped the infant in one hand and swung her clear of the pilot and into his arms. The train came to a stop with the wheels of the locomotive some distance beyond the point where the child had been.

The youngster was quickly restored to her mother, unscratched, and Cotter continued his run. His home is at 200 Thirteenth Street, Jersey City.

Ira M. Meade, the grandfather of the child, is one of the oldest and best-known locomotive engineers on the Erie, with forty years' service behind him. For years he has been a close friend of Cotter.

Meade said after the rescue that Cotter's feat was the first of its kind he had met outside of fiction in all his experience.

From the March, 1935 issue of Erie Railroad Magazine:
When veteran Engineer Ira M. Mead prepared to pull train 583 out on his last run after 53 years of service last month, employes in the Erie's Jersey City Terminal gave him rousing cheers and whistles of all the other trains sounded messages of farewell and good luck. Mead, past 70, began as a watchman and fireman at Pompton Junction and is one of the old school of railroaders who do not think much of modern gas and electric trains. As he sped along on the Greenwood Lake Division, friends gathered at stations to wave greetings.

Mr. Mead married Miss Leonora Hasbrouck of Passaic. They live in Riverdale and have four children: a son, Raymond, of Pontiac, MI; and three daughters, Mrs. Reginald J. Cushmore, Mrs. Allen Rockefeller, and Mrs. Edgar Ashworth.

From the April, 1935 issue of Erie Railroad Magazine:
Many pleasant tributes were paid to two Erie engineers who retired last month after a combined service of 105 years but the ones we liked best came from the pen of H.G. McNomee, publisher of the Pompton Lakes Bulletin, whose boyhood hero they were. The veterans to leave the throttle were Ira M. Mead of Riverdale with 52 years service and Charles Curtis Marean of Butler, who has been on an engine 53 years. As they urged their iron steeds out of the Jersey City terminal on their last runs, their names emblazoned on the sides of their cabs, whistles tooted and out on the line people stopped to wave and cheer them on.

One of them was Mr. McNomee who wrote:

"Seldom it occurs to you, when you ride on a train, that your very life depends upon the alertness and the faithful devotion to duty of the men in the engine cab. Ever since we were a boy in the early 'teens it has been necessary for us to ride on railroads. Every moment of our lives all of us depend upon the faithful devotion of somebody else. That is never more true than when we ride on a train.

Alone the engineer rides in his cab, in fair weather and foul, sunshine and fog, winter and summer with his eagle eyes glued on the tracks ahead, alert to every signal, alive to every move of the huge iron horse that responds to every movement of his left hand. Every crossing hears his warning whistle, every station his clanging bell. The safety of his passengers is ever on his mind.

One day last week the big 2548 on the Greenwood Lake Division of the Erie, pulled out of Jersey City with the name of Ira Mead, of Riverdale, emblazoned on its side. Mr. Mead had reached the age of retirement. He had driven locomotives for several decades without an accident.

Long a resident of what is now Riverdale, Mr. Mead needs no introduction to local folks. His family, too, have been active in civic affairs for many years. He retires to a well-earned rest after so long a time simply driving his engines, watching out for the safety of his passengers and doing the job as best he knew.

What experiences he could tell in doing the day's work. Bucking snow banks in winter, watching for washouts in spring and fall, always on the alert for the unexpected. Ira Mead typifies the ideal engineer, the man who does his job without expectation of anything but his pay and a well earned rest.

Did you ever ride on a locomotive? We have done so many times. And if you ever ride one, remember to well heel the seat of your pants and be sure your "liver pin" is in good order. Then think of Ira Mead whose years of service riding in a cab have just come to a close."

Of Charley Marean, he added:

"When we were a boy, one of the first engineers behind whom we ever rode was Charley, a safe, sane, conservative fellow, who, nevertheless, could get out of his 'horse' all that 'she' had in her. Why, hang it all, only last night we rode home behind Charley, as we have done hundreds of times in the last 35 years.

Charley drive the big 2523 that brings the Paulison Flyer into Pompton Lakes at 6:26 each evening. Almost 70, Charley has the 'pep' of a young man. He brings that heavy eight car train over the 'Jersey flats' at a mile a minute clip, for between Jersey City and Paterson he must make 21 miles in 28 minutes and start and stop besides, with some slow downs.

Perhaps this long association with the man in the cab, dating from boyhood, has made us a bit sentimental, but whatever it is, it is there. How well we recall some of the old engineers, Leir Kays, Barney Egan, John Klopman and Beattie. Why even Andy Pullis soon will be a veteran, and he too a boyhood friend.

Speaking of punctuality, did you ever find anybody anwhere at anytime that 'watched the watch' any more carefully than railroad men?

If you could know the men who ride the cabs as we know them, you would find them just what they are, brothers true, whether lodge men or not, and most of them are brothers of ours. Some of them are members of the same mother lodge and all of them are faithful until the end."