Birth

Enlistment Information

Military Service

Embarkation Information

Military Awards

Death

Biographical Notes

George Alexander Pearson was born on 23 June 1891 at Alloa, Clackmannanshire, Scotland, the youngest son of Andrew and Isabella (née McQueen) Pearson. In 1901 George was a scholar at home with his family at Alloa. When war broke out in August 1914, he was a reporter and journalist in Timaru. George was 21 years old and a reporter when he departed from London per the “Arawa” on 15 August 1912, bound for New Zealand. His uncle George Pearson, of Alloa Ferry, Scotland, had married at First Church, Dunedin in 1862 and had lived in Timaru since 1866, he and his wife Agnes celebrating their golden wedding anniversary on 12 December 1912. Young George had probably arrived to celebrate with them. George, senior, died just three months later. It was with George and Agnes (née Aitken) Pearson, that George Alexander Pearson resided when he first lived in Timaru and worked as a reporter for the Timaru Herald. The Timaru Herald of 12 April 1913 carried a death notice for Andrew Pearson who had died at Alloa, Scotland on 7 April - the brother of the late George Pearson, Timaru. He was also the father of George Alexander Pearson.

On the outbreak of the First World War, Mr Pearson offered his services to the New Zealand Army but was rejected on the grounds that he was under the minimum height for enlistment. Soon after receiving this advice, he paid his own way to Scotland and joined what was known as the “Businessmen’s Battalion” of the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders. Who better than George himself to tell his subsequent war story? The Timaru Herald of 14 July 1915 reported thus - Mr George Pearson, of the literary staff of the “Timaru Herald” leaves to-day for the war, his purpose being to go home to Scotland to say goodbye to his people and then join the Army on the western front. Mr Pearson, who is a nephew of the late Mr George Pearson, of Timaru, came out to Timaru about two years ago, and joined the staff of this paper. He quickly gained the good opinion of his employers and co-workers as well as of all with whom he had to do; and as an earnest [sic] of their appreciation of his action in deciding to offer his services to his country, his fellow workers met him last evening and asked his acceptance of a pair of field glasses. The editor (Mr W. F. Alexander) made the presentation, and in so doing complimented Mr Pearson on his pluck and patriotism, at the same time expressing warm appreciation of his work on the paper, and his earnest desire to see him back in his former position at the conclusion of his military service. Mr Doyle, business manager, and Mr Hardcastle, sub-editor, expressed similar sentiments, the former conveying a message from Mr E. G. Kerr (who is at present in Sydney) that Mr Pearson’s position on the “Herald” would he kept open for him on his return. Mr Pearson made suitable acknowledgment of the gift as well as the sentiments accompanying it, and said that nothing would please him better than to come back to Timaru should he have the good fortune to come through the war all right. Mr Pearson leaves to-day for Wellington, where he will join the Remuera for London.

Mr Geo. Pearson, who left the “Herald” office six weeks ago to go Home and to the war, arrived in London on Monday 23 August. The good newspaper man that he was, he sent some great accounts of his war experiences. Private George Pearson, late of the “Herald” reporting staff, and now of the 15th reserve battalion Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, writing to a friend in Timaru from Gailes Camp, Ayrshire, says, inter alia, that he was now a unit of Kitchener’s great and historic new army. Private Pearson went into camp first at Witley, Surrey, but was not sorry when the order came to pack up and make for Scotland again. Gailes camp is situated on the west coast, about 10 miles from Ayr. It is a very fine situation for a camp, right in the heart of Scotland’s most famous golf links, but in winter, such as at present, is exposed to bitter winds, “the more bitter when you think of us turning out at 7 a.m. in kilts! . . . . We have been going hard at drill now for over a week, and were to-day shifted from the recruits’ squad to the companies.” Private Pearson goes on to say that he was anxious to get through with company drill as soon as possible, as he wanted to get into the signalling squad, which will be commenced soon. So far as his experience of soldering [sic] went, he liked it immensely. “The life is rough and ready. . . . We are kept steadily at work. Reveille sounds at 6 a.m., and first parade is 7 a.m. We generally have a route march for an hour, and have breakfast from 8 till 9. From 10 till 12.30 we have physical drill, squad drill in close or extended order, and a march, or one long route march. Then from 2 till 4 we are again hammering at drill, broken perhaps by a short lecture on a competent subject. . . . There is no lack of exhilaration in soldering [sic] under those conditions.” [Timaru Herald. 12 January 1916.]

In early April 1916, Mr G. J. Sealey, J.P., of Timaru, received a very interesting letter from Private G. A. Pearson, formerly on the reporting staff of the “Timaru Herald,” who went to Scotland and joined the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, and wrote from the Gailes Camp, Ayrshire, Scotland. Private Pearson says: — “I am now beginning to consider myself as a bit of an old soldier; that is as I look around and see all the young chaps who have joined subsequent to my own enlistment. When this regiment removed to its present encampment we were about 300 strong. In less than six weeks we had grown to 1300 in number. That was the time that the Lord Derby recruiting scheme was first talked about, and l think it had a good effect. The fellows in the Regiment are a good lot being mostly of the commercial and business class. I am in the first draft for the Front, and I do not think we will be long on this side of the water. This Battalion is a reserve or draft battalion, that is a feeder, and lately we have been put through our facings with significant haste. Already we are the length of 20-mile route marches in kilts and full fighting order, while musketry and bayonet fighting are being taught with great rapidity. I have just completed a preliminary musketry course, and am expecting to be sent to the range any day. Musketry as taught now-a-days includes the following subjects - fire positions (prone, kneeling and standing), care and mechanism of arms, trigger pressing, aiming, grouping (on the miniature), rapid loading, rapid firing, snap shooting, visual training, estimating distance, direction, recognition and description of targets, and theory. The class I was in had a fortnight’s training; (I had only ten days, having been on four days’ furlough), and at the end of that time we were put through standard tests by an officer. We all passed. For myself I must say I got on first rate in all the subjects and passed in every one at first time of asking. In care of arms, mechanism and theory, I was one out of two in our section to pass the officers’ test. To-day we have had lectures on trench life and how to combat the enemy’s gas attacks, so I somehow deduce from this that we are intended for France, and that in the near future. Skirmishing, digging and bayonet fighting form the greater part of our training now-a-days, and work is not allowed to be interfered with by fatigues, etc. It’s all serious business now, and it’s really astonishing how soon the restless, careless, and evidently unserious recruit comes to realise that he is not out for a picnic, but real grim, trying business. For my part I always regarded it as such. Still I can conscientiously say that I am glad I came (even all this distance) to be in the good old Highland uniform; and even supposing I am not permitted to wear it long, or to be spared to look back on the days I did wear it, I cannot feel anything but pride at having been an Argyll and Sutherland Highlander and having taken part in this great and awful conflict as a member of such an historic Regiment. I must say I really like the life; it has many interesting and attractive features for any one who is really anxious to do his bit; and I have succeeded so far in thoroughly grasping the work in hand As the days lengthen so our hours of labour extend, but one can make the work congenial by taking a real interest in it, and doing one’s best. The winter weather has been a bit trying for me (especially with this uniform!) but I’m getting used to it now. Although so busy here, and so many miles away, I still think a good deal of Timaru, and I can assure you I have every hope of seeing its pleasurable shores again. The future is too hazy and obscure to build aerial edifices, but the British soldier never says die. I seem to have been very lucky all through my life so far - fortune seems to have smiled on me in many ways and I have no doubt I'll see through this business too. Of course one never knows, and I am glad to be privileged to do my duty to King and Country . . . .” [Timaru Herald. 7 April 1916.]

By June 1916, George was in France, proudly serving with his Highlands regiment and ready to experience the challenges of the front-line. The following are extracts from letters written to relatives in Timaru by Private G. A. Pearson, formerly of the literary staff of the “Timaru Herald,” and now of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders: -

June 26 – “I arrived over here (France), one of a draft of 100, about a week ago, and have been busy training at the base since. Before coming here we were privileged to see quite a lot of France; as a matter of fact the authorities took us a rather round-about way for a short cut, as the saying is. We left England one fine evening on a turbine steamer, on which I went for a very enjoyable trip from Glasgow to Rothesay several years ago. All the men were served with life belts on boarding the ship. Our equipment was all stored in the after saloon, and very soon after sailing each unit was served with rations for 24 hours. These consisted of a tin of bully beef, three biscuits and a junk of cheese per man, with tea, sugar, milk, and jam per section of fifteen men. We had quite a pleasant little sail till we dropped astern the white chalk cliffs of England. I went below and took what sleep I was allowed, and I had quite a good nap ere I was awakened by a rush upon deck. On going up I saw a long, low, flickering line of lights denoting the coast of France. Away on our port bow flashed intermittently the light from Cape Ushant, a landmark we watched and waited for with suppressed excitement from the Remuera’s deck in August last. Soon we drew into what appeared to be a rather important seaport, and by midnight had made fast at the wharf. At 8.30 a.m. we disembarked and made sure of the fact that we were at Havre. We had a march of a mile or two to a rest camp, where we looked round until 4 p.m., when we set out on a two hours’ march through a maze of narrow, dirty, uneven streets to a railway siding, where we joined a train about half a mile long. After waiting about 90 minutes, in which time we got another issue of rations, we set out at a crawl. The scenery as we journeyed along was really very fine, and I must say I enjoyed the run until darkness intervened. We soon fell asleep, being all rather tired with travelling two full days without rest. However, we were soon again wakened, this time as we slowed down at the shunting yards of Rouen Station. It was then midnight, and we spent the night sleeping surprisingly sound on the stone floor of the goods shed. Blankets and sheets are luxuries now which one does well to forget about. My “pal” spread his great coat on the floor, mine did as a covering for both of us, and our packs did as pillows. The pillows were undoubtedly hard, but not as hard as some people have slept on. We had no dreams of heavenly beauties ascending ladders of light in their march to the kingdoms above. We spent the whole of the next day at Rouen. Our officers very kindly got permission to take us through the city, and I can assure you we did enjoy the march immensely. It is a fine place in many respects, but I am sorry time does not permit me to detail my impressions now. In the evening we set out again on a train journey, and on waking in the morning we were travelling along the coast. At 7.30 a.m. we stopped at Etaples, a fishing village on the Garouche. Here we have been ever since then, undergoing training and awaiting orders to proceed to that region so vaguely, so indefinitely spoken of here as “up the line.” This is a very large encampment, and we have all sorts of troops from every part of the Empire. Your men are here by the hundreds, but I have never had an opportunity of coming into contact with any I knew. We are having a good time here and I rather like the surroundings. The life, I still enjoy, and we are all looking forward to getting up to the firing line. We may, of course, soon change our tune.

June 28 — “Since leaving the base and joining our battalion, we have been kept pretty busy. The battalion came out of the trenches for a few days’ spell the day our draft arrived here, and we have been training with them. This afternoon we go hack for another spell, so that I may have some new experiences ere I write again. The weather lately has been very unsettled and we have had a lot of rain, so the trenches will not be as comfortable as one might wish for in summer. We are only a few miles behind the firing line here and have now become used to the racket of the artillery. There was a big bombardment all along the line this week, but it has died away now. From morning till night there was one continuous volley as of thunder. At night it was fine to watch the flashes of the big guns, the bursting of the shells, and the repeated explosions of the star shells. I daresay had we been in the thick of the bombardment, I would have used different adjectives. I was up near the front line two days ago on fatigue, laying trench boards. The communication trench we went up was in a bad state, and we had to splash through mud and water almost up to the knees. After we got on a bit, however, the trenches became very dry and clean. While we were up there, there was a miniature artillery duel, and we got our first taste of fire. When we were coming back along the trench, the Bosche shells came whizzing over us. From the end of the trench to a sheltered part of the road was a stretch of about 150 yards, and crossing this space made one look pretty lively. But of course, when one has been in one or two such predicaments they assume a much different aspect. We were glad, however, when our party got clear of the village and the German shells. There are several villages round here, and each presents a pitiful appearance. I don’t know what Belgium will be like, but I feel sure that France will take many many years to make good if she ever does. The aeroplanes, too, are always a source of interest, and they are continually being shelled. Our men do a great deal more reconnaissance than Fritz – at least at this part of the front — and cause the enemy no end of trouble and anxiety.”

[Timaru Herald. 29 August 1916.]

George Pearson, of the literary staff of the Timaru Herald, took part in “the great push” on the Somme in the latter part of 1916, and came through it unscathed. In late 1916-early 1917, he forwarded some interesting notes of his experiences to one of his colleagues at the Herald. The notes were written in the trenches at odd times, and on odd scraps of paper. They read as follows: “At such a distance from the scene of action as New Zealand is from France, war news, as presented in our papers by the various writers, often assumes a very peculiar and barren aspect when perused by anyone who has been in or near the localities or actions mentioned. When one reads the bare statement that ‘our infantry advanced still further in the vicinity of the High Wood at dawn yesterday after a short artillery preparation,’ one is apt to conjure up a very erroneous idea of advances and artillery preparations. It is an oft-repeated assertion that Scottish regiments are always to be found where there’s most work and hardest fighting to be done, but be that as it may so far as our latest Big Push is concerned, it will be found that the sons of Scotia played a very creditable part. Being attached to a Battalion of a certain ‘kilted’ division, we found ourselves being marched here, motored there, and trained somewhere else, accompanied all the time by vague speculations and rumours. At last, after many trying and fatiguing marches and journeys, we found ourselves right there. We had been in trenches long and often and considered ourselves inure to the nervy effects of Jack Johnston’s, coal boxes, trench mortars and the like, but the oldest soldier readily admitted that our destination was the hottest corner the battalion had been in.

“In due course it came our turn to “go up,” and the first excursion into the line was by no means an enjoyable one. It was a perfect summer evening, a young mid-summer moon had not yet disclosed its presence, though the shades of night had fallen revealing a beautiful star-spangled firmament. But what a turmoil disturbed the wonted repose of Nature. The country around was undulating, with wide, open, roughly-made roads, here and there blocked with an endless stream of supply lumbers, ammunition columns, motor transports and ambulances while the tramp, tramp of infantry to and from the firing line was incessant. Every valley presented a picturesque spectacle, being illuminated with glaring camp fires, and flickering candle lights which revealed phantom figures moving to and fro in the dusk. Added to this was an everlasting roar of' cannon from every point of the compass. This was where the ‘Great Push’ started, and day and night our artillery seemed to infest the entire countryside like ants on a mound, spoke out volley after volley of ‘rapid’ with telling effect. After dusk, the continual flash of guns produced a rare spectacular effect, illuminating the heavens with a grandeur akin to the aurora borealis. We trudged on each man having to be particularly careful to keep in touch with his own party, as it was the simplest matter possible to lose connection. After about thirty minutes walk we seemed to leave the main road, and soon found ourselves stumbling into old shell holes, tripping over tangled shrubbery, and a hopeless tangle of disused wires and cables. On either hand we could observe through the gloom, immense heaps of debris, bricks and mortar while an effluvium which could almost have been cut, told its own tale. The fact was that we were passing through what was at one time the above [abode] of many peaceful, industrious French peasants, having the dignity of a place on the map as Fricourt, but the map had now been altered, and Fricourt was non est.

“We halted a little further on; we seemed to be off the beaten track. In a short time we heard the subdued purring of a motor ambulance on our left front, and soon inquired as to our whereabouts. After receiving directions we again set off. The night was oppressively warm and, although we were minus our usual packs and carried only the minimum equipment necessary for action, we were beginning to feel uncomfortable. Added to this, an irritating, disconcerting atmosphere pervaded the valley we were traversing. Our nostrils sniffed and itched, while our eyes smarted and watered till we could not see a yard in front of us. Very soon we realised the cause – lachrymatory eyes. At once goggles were donned, and we proceeded on our way slowly forward, expressing as we went, in language as strong as it was emphatic, our regard for the Hun and all his kind.

“After a two hours’ journey we came into that region where one experiences sensations and thrills known only (fortunately) to the soldier at the front. We were now in the Somme valley of to-day. On our left, stretching for quite two miles, was a thickly set plantation, while on our right was a sudden rise of quite 100 feet to an extensive plateau. The enemy had been forced out of his positions here by strenuous but determined fighting on our part, but had kept a note of ranges, which was soon quite evident to us. Spasmodically we would have a shower of Krupp’s sent over to us, and with no shelter stronger than tree branches and corrugated iron the predicament was none too pleasant. The road from this point up was strewn with dead horses and the remains of ammunition columns and limbers. At last we came to our position – about midnight - and had to set to work with pick and shovel to provide ourselves with cover for the night. Nothing is more surprising than the energy one can throw into pick and shovel work when a bombardment of the utmost intensity is in progress. A hole narrow, and about four feet deep, covered over with thickly spread tree branches - and if one is fortunate or endowed with ‘slippery’ qualities, a sheet of corrugated iron may find its way from the ‘Dump’ - is our abode. But this does for the night. We huddle together two or three to a dug-out, and surprising as it may seem many soon fall fast-asleep. Soon after daybreak, however, we are on the move again ‘drumming up,’ or in other words attending to the tucker department. We fry our ham and bread and tea make up our breakfast. A ramble through the wood on our left, and a visit to the battered trenches therein provide much food for thought and helps to pass our time. During the day our artillery shells intermittently, and the Hun replies only very weakly and at lengthy intervals. All day long ammunition columns roll up and branch off in every direction to feed the apparently insatiable batteries. A Red Cross waggon now and then takes down a “load” from the dressing station over the way, while frequently soldiers, battered, hatless, blood-bespattered and maimed in some way or other plod back from the scene of action - not as despondent or gloomy as one might imagine. Cheery words and jokes are passed between the men going up and those who seem well on the way for ‘Boulogne and Blighty.’

“The day wears on, and night draws in. With the approach of dusk there is a gradual, but quite perceptible increase m our artillery fire. The guns shriek and roar, and it soon would appear that the entire atmosphere is one huge mass of flame. Little comes back in our direction, and so intense and unbroken is the bombardment that one can hardly help feeling for the poor souls who have to face such a curtain of fire as our guns were daily setting up in the face of the enemy. This continues the night through and not until the first streaks of dawn have ushered in a new day do the artillery show any abatement of their relentless and harassing labours. The whole night long, however, in spite of the terrific bombardment and the ever present danger from enemy shelling, our ammunition columns continue their great work of keeping up the supplies to the man behind the gun. Only by those who have been privileged to witness this can the real value of the column driver be appreciated. Soon only a few batteries keep up their fire, and as the day wears on only one or two batteries are kept in service. This is as seen from behind the line, but we can only conjure up visions of infantry attacks and hand-to-hand encounters in front, and wonder what has been the verdict. Soon, we know will come our turn to take up a position in the firing line, but then time enough for that thought when that occasion arrives.”

In 1917, Private George Pearson attained the rank of lieutenant. He served for some time with the famous old Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders, but had always been desirous of joining the Flying Corps. In October 1917, he wrote that, following a call for volunteers for this branch of service, he was one of a fortunate six to be selected.

He was residing at 43 Grange Road, Alloa, Scotland (his mother’s address) when he started his military service with the Royal Air Force on 20 May 1918 – 2nd Lieutenant, 16855, training as a pilot in England. Now a lieutenant in the Air Service in France, Mr George Pearson wrote in mid-1918 concerning an air raid which he witnessed in London: — If there is one part of the British Empire which at the present time can be safely said to be immune from enemy interference, that surely is far-off New Zealand. No doubt everyone in the Dominion reads with awe and horror of the repeated raids on the Mother Country made by enemy airmen, and their indiscriminate bomb dropping on our centres, especially in England, with the resultant deplorable loss of life. What adds to the gruesomeness of such raids is the percentage of innocent and helpless women and children who pay the extreme sacrifice as a result of these barbarous tactics. Happening to be in London the other week when a raid was perpetrated, it might be of interest to relate experiences on such an occasion. The atmosphere was beautifully calm and mild, and the long summer twilight was just fading into a delightful evening. Having a few hours to spend in the great city, and wishing to spend it pleasantly, one naturally makes his way to one of the many halls where high-class entertainment is provided — it is wonderful how much patronage is still bestowed on these enterprises. The programme had just been concluded when the manager appeared before the footlights and calmly intimated that one of the eventualities which have come to he expected in such calm, clear evenings had occurred, but there had been no firing heard for about twenty minutes. He calmly stated that ample bomb-proof cover could be obtained in certain portions of the building, to which as many of the audience as chose could repair. There was no need for panic — and it can be truthfully stated there was none. There were women of nervous tendencies, and some, well advanced in years who seemed to be somewhat disturbed regarding their safety, and officers in uniform soon found themselves besieged by an anxious worried-looking throng, and by no end of questions. Assurances, which it must be admitted were absolutely without foundation in fact, were given that all would be well in the portions of the building indicated, and that as no firing had been heard for twenty minutes it could be fairly safely concluded that the raiders had met more than their match. Deeming discretion the better part of valour they had in all probability turned tail and made off.

Having to proceed to another part of the city for a railway connection, we made our way out to the street. Few lights were exhibited; traffic was reduced to a minimum, and people were endeavouring to make their way to their respective homes as best they could, and as quickly as the jostling and colliding of pedestrians would allow them. The scene was not without humour. Five or six paces were about the limit each pedestrian would take without turning an anxious gaze furtively to the star-spangled heavens. The feeling, it must be admitted, was most uncomfortable, and one could not be certain of the moment one of the fearsome death-dealing projectiles from the Hun machines might be hurled down on the unprotected, helpless populace.

Buses, taxis, and practically all vehicles of conveyance being at a standstill, we were forced to resort to the underground railway as a means of transport from one end of the city to another. It was here that the terrified and nervous were huddled. One had the greatest difficulty in passing along passages and descending stairways, so densely were the people assembled. Here it was that the homeless, the socially degraded, and the poverty-stricken sought shelter. Yet there was many a laudable trait of character displayed by this class, of which it is only too true that London has a large share. But aged men and women could be seen gathering together into their care toddling, wandering, homeless and otherwise uncared-for waifs. Mothers there were bareheaded, with crying infants at their breasts, and even the babes seemed to understand instinctively that some terrorising element floated near. Here and there the irrepressible spirit would be met with, the character who is to be admired in a way, and whose lightness of heart is ever effervescent. Eagerly were we asked “Have they gone yet?” Every platform, every staircase, and every passage was crowded, men, women and children sitting or lying on the floors, each no doubt wondering where his relatives might be, and whether they were safe. By the time we returned to the streets. they were deserted, save for police authorities and men in khaki.

At the railway station all was darkness. Several soldiers, just across on leave, made their way with an easy “front line” step, from place to place, as though nothing unusual was astir. Porters could not be had, and travellers had to commandeer barrows and trolleys as best they could to transport their luggage to the platforms. One young lady, who had made the long journey from Edinburgh, stood sentry over her belongings in the station entrance, and told us in meaning tones that she had to look after her own baggage during the raid, as the station hands had made themselves scarce. All we could murmur — those of us who had been “strafed” by enemy heavy metal, was “sound judges.”

Soon afterwards the “all clear” siren sounded, and for a considerable time afterwards the “undergrounds” seemed to pour fourth hundreds each unconsciously gazing heavenwards, and simultaneously heaving a sigh of relief that once more they had escaped the dastardly Hun.

As to panic — it was conspicuous only by its absence. In the places of amusement, large numbers had congregated, and to the officials and ent[ert]ainers are due all praise for their efforts in keeping calmness. Many of the artists must have known that a raid was “on,” yet they carried out their respective parts with quite heroic calmness. In the programme at the hall referred to, several items were carried out by ten or twelve little girls. There they were, mere mites, yet by their coolness in carrying out their items they were preventing a panic which could easily have had fatal results.

London is full of such samples of British pluck and courage, and it is only now, when a barbarous foe threatens innocent and helpless women and children, that it is seen and appreciated. The raiders on this occasion were prevented from getting into the heart of the city, though their handiwork had as its result several fatal casualties amongst the civilian public. After a short time however, the great metropolis again assumed its wonted aspect, and business and pleasure were resumed as though nothing had happened.

His flying career had been cut short when, after gaining his wings, he was injured in an aero accident at Grantham on 28 June 1918, but he remained with the corps until his discharge in 1918. As of 13 December 1918, he was in the General Hospital at Birmingham. George Alexander Pearson ended his service with the Royal Air Force on 15 February 1919. Having left London some time ago to return to Timaru, Flight-Lieutenant George Pearson was as of August 1919 in Sydney, where he was held up owing to a strike among the crew of the vessel by which he was travelling. He was in a draft of New Zealanders who had been serving with Imperial details and arrived in Auckland on 8 September per the “Port Melbourne”. Mrs Pearson, Turnbull Street, received word to this effect and that he would reach Timaru on Friday 10th September. The report of the Medical Board at Auckland, New Zealand, on 8 September 1919, noted that he had suffered disabilities including dislocation of the jaw which resulted in difficulty in masticating, tenderness over the site of the fracture, headaches and double vision, with occasional dizziness. On his return to New Zealand, the New Zealand Government recognised his war service and refunded his fare to Britain and paid the difference between the New Zealand and British forces rates of pay.

On 13 November 1919, the congregation of Trinity Church, Timaru, accorded a welcome-home social to the young men of the congregation who had seen service abroad or at home, in the recent war. The chairman extended a hearty welcome to the returned men present and stated that recently a number had left the district. The Rev. T. Stinson referred to the creditable record the congregation had, between 50 and 60 of the men having joined up. He also spoke of the readiness with which the eligible members of the congregation had enlisted, and stated that long before compulsory service was instituted every eligible single man in the congregation had offered his services. He paid a fitting tribute to the services of the men who had been fortunate to return, and also referred eloquently to those who would always be remembered amongst “the unreturning brave.” He thought it was only right that at such a function as that they should remember those who made the supreme sacrifice for liberty and right. Messrs J. N. Lewis and G. A. Pearson, on behalf of the returned soldiers, thanked Mr Stinson for his kindly welcome, and all present for the manner in which they had endorsed the sentiments expressed by him. They expressed their gratitude to the ladies of the congregation in the different organisations, who had worked unremittingly for the comfort of the boys at the front, many comforts having been enjoyed on the field. They felt they had been privileged in being able to render service for King and Country in an hour of such trouble and danger. During the evening a very enjoyable musical programme was carried through. After supper and a short conversazione, the evening concluded with the singing of the National Anthem.

George settled back at Turnbull Steet, Timaru. He had married Isabella Grey Saunders on 1 June 1918 at Dollar, near Stirling, Scotland. Two children were born at Timaru – Margaret Robertson Pearson in February 1921 and Andrew Robert McQueen Pearson in October 1923. In 1922, G. A. Pearson was serving on the management committee of the South Canterbury Football Association. At the Annual General Meeting in March 1923, he was re-elected to that position and sometimes presided. With the opening of the 1923 season in April, G. A. Pearson was a referee, a duty he performed throughout the season. In March 1924, however, Mr G. A. Pearson tendered his resignation as a member of the Management Committee, and the resignation was accepted with regret, a resolution of appreciation of his services to the code being passed. In June, a letter of appreciation was received from Mr G. A. Pearson, thanking the Association footballers of Timaru for the handsome testimonial presented to him by the Auckland Football Association on their behalf.

For the past twelve years George Pearson had been a member of the literary staff of the “Timaru Herald,” and now he was leaving Timaru on 17 March for Auckland, where he had accepted another appointment. On the Friday before, Mr Pearson was met by a fully attended meeting of the Canterbury Journalists’ Association (Timaru Branch), when “very sincere regret was expressed at the departure from Timaru of one who had proved so capable and popular in his profession, and the best of good wishes were expressed for his future. As a token of esteem his fellow journalists asked his acceptance of a set of military hair brushes and a tobacco pouch. Mr. Pearson suitably acknowledged the gifts, and the sentiments by which they were accompanied.” He was also met by members of the commercial and literary staffs of the “Herald,” when expressions of regret at his departure, and of good wishes for his future, were voiced by all present. He was presented with a cheque as a token of the appreciation in which he was held by his principals and fellow workers, eulogistic reference being made to the capable service he had rendered during his many years of faithful work at the “Herald.” A high tribute to the qualities possessed by Mr Pearson was also paid by the commercial staff. All were very sorry to lose him. In thanking the members of the staff for their expression of goodwill, Mr Pearson referred with feelings of regret at the severing of his connection with the “Herald” and the many friends he had made during his stay in Timaru.

George did not forget Timaru, paying a visit in March 1925; while in December Mr and Mrs G. A. Pearson and family (Auckland) visited, the guests of Mrs J. R. Snedden, High Street. Mrs J. R. Snedden was Catherine Rintoul née Pearson, George’s sister. George was on the literary staff of the Auckland “Star” when he stopped off in Timaru in September 1927. He was probably accompanying the Auckland touring Association team which had an easy win over south Canterbury at Anzac Square on 7th September. At the smoke concert held in the Stafford, the members and officials of the Auckland team being the guests of the South Canterbury Football Association, Mr Pearson gave some interesting details of primary school football in Auckland, stating that the number of boys taking part in the game was increasing year by year. Early in 1937, the family spent a holiday in Timaru. The following month, Timaru folk were their guests in Mount Albert.

In 1924 he had actually taken a position with “Truth” at Auckland, transferring to the sub-editorial staff of the Auckland “Star” in 1926. Mr G. A. Pearson was nominated for the Gladstone Road (Mount Albert) school committee in 1929. He again took up refereeing for football in Auckland, while he and Mrs Pearson did not go unnoticed on the social scene, especially at dances and balls. They were the winners of the Monte Carlo at a dance in August 1938. On 12 November 1938 at Palmerston North, at the third annual reunion of Imperial ex-servicemen, Mr G. A. Pearson (Auckland) responded to the toast of the Press. Among the guests at the function held under the auspices of the Imperial Ex-Servicemen’s Social Club to mark the twentieth anniversary of the Armistice, was Mr G. A. Pearson, Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders and R.A.F., representing the “Page for Ex-Servicemen”. At a social function which comprised a gathering of the Imperial Ex-Servicemen’s Social Club Committee and friends in February 1939, George rendered an enjoyable song item. George Pearson, a member of the Mount Albert Ex-Servicemen’s Club, was part of a deputation which called on the Borough Council in February 1941 for assistance in finding bigger premises. At the annual meeting in May 1942 – in new and spacious premises – he was elected an active-vice-president; and again in 1943, then president in 1944 and 1945, in which capacity he performed many duties. At the annual conference of the National Federation of Brevet Clubs held in August 1964, G. A. Pearson (South Canterbury) was elected a vice-president.

Isabella Gray Pearson died at Auckland on 7 April 1951 and was cremated at Waikumete. Not too long after, George moved back to Timaru, continuing his profession as a journalist. After 19 years’ service with the “Star” he had returned to “Truth” until 1952 when he moved back to Timaru to assume the post of cable sub-editor and deputy chief sub-editor on the “Herald.” He married Margaret Catherine Florence Martin in 1953 at Timaru. Sadly, Margaret died on 17 October 1955, after “Two Golden Years”, and was laid to rest with her parents in the Timaru Cemetery. New Zealander George A. Pearson, who was born on 23 June 1891 at Alloa, Scotland, and whose permanent address was 26 Wai-iti Road, Timaru, New Zealand, boarded a flight at Auckland and arrived in the United States on 9 May 1958. His address there was C/o Princess Kaiulani Hotel, Honolulu. He departed Honolulu, Hawaii the next day by Canadian Pacific Airlines. Perhaps he was in transit to visit his native country? He retired in 1963, but returned to work in a part-time capacity until failing health forced him into permanent retirement the following year.

George Alexander Pearson – ex Royal Flying Corps and Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders - died at Timaru Public Hospital (of 26 Wai-iti Road) on 15 August 1966, aged 75 years. He was survived by his daughter Margaret and son Andrew Robert (Bob). After a service at Betts chapel, he was cremated privately at Bromley Crematorium, Christchurch. Members of the South Canterbury Returned Services Association attended his service. A simple plaque marks his plot at the Canterbury Memorial Gardens. He was a highly respected journalist who served “The Timaru Herald” for more than 20 years in two periods during a career lasting 60 years. For a number of years Mr Pearson edited the Auckland “Star” Diggers’ Column, was the South Canterbury correspondent for “Straight Furrow,” the official journal of New Zealand Federated Farmers, and more recently contributed articles to the New Zealand R.S.A. “Review.” Mr Pearson maintained a keen interest in aviation, and held office as patron of the Brevet Club (South Canterbury) for several years. Always proud of the land of his birth, he had a long-standing interest in association football which he played, and refereed in Timaru, in his younger days. George appointed his son as trustee of his estate, the proceeds of which were to be shared equally by his son and his daughter.

George Pearson was survived by his daughter, Margaret Robertson Cowdery of Auckland, and his son, Andrew Robert McQueen Pearson (Bob) of Christchurch, both of whom saw service in World War Two. Margaret Robertson Pearson served with the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps, naming her mother as next-of-kin. As she was of very small stature, her uniform had to be tailored to fit. And in her heavy vehicle driving role, she had to sit on a cushion. She served overseas – driving and clerical work - in Egypt and in Italy. Back in New Zealand, she married her childhood sweetheart Jack Cowdery in 1947. She also joined the RSA and was very active in the Women’s Section throughout her long life. Margaret died in December 2022, 101 years and 10 months old. Her secret to longevity, she said, was having the good luck of strong Scottish genes. Andrew Robert McQueen Pearson, who was at home when he was drawn in a 1942 ballot, trained with the Royal New Zealand Air Force and was seconded to the Royal Air Force in India as a sergeant-pilot. He named his father as next-of-kin. After the war, Bob trained as a fabric designer at Galashiels, Scotland, then joined the staff of New Zealand mills, coming to Timaru in 1957 and living with his father. Bob married Mary Olive Laura Moore née Braid in October 1962, probably at Timaru. He died suddenly in June 1969, just 45 years old. It appears that Bob Pearson had his secondary education at Timaru Boys’ High School. Avery pleasant dinner at a Cairo restaurant in early January 1943 marked the first reunion in the Middle East of Timaru High School Old Boys. Major Bob Pearson, senior ranking old boy present, was “O.C.” proceedings. [Timaru Herald, 12 January 1943.] George’s brother, Robert McQueen Pearson, was killed in action on 2 November 1916 at the Somme. Was George there when he was killed? Both George and Robert served with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.

Sources

Timaru Herald, 16 December 1912, 11 March 1913, 14 July 1915, 26 August 1915, 12 January 1916, 7 April 1916, 29 August 1916, 6 December 1916, 13 January 1917, 4 September 1917, 30 October 1917, 3 September 1918, 5 August 1919, 9 & 10 September 1919, 15 November 1919, 8 September 1922, 19 March 1923, 27 April 1923, 3 May 1923, 12, 15 & 18 March 1924, 17 June 1924, 24 March 1925, 18 June 1925, 5 & 23 December 1925, 13 January 1926, 7 & 8 September 1927, 12 January 1943, Press, 13 March 1924, 26 January 1937, 11 August 1964, 9 June 1969, Manawatu Standard, 14 November 1938, 7 February 1939, Auckland Star, 19 November 1938, 5 February 1941, 16 May 1942 (Papers Past) [15 May 2014; 21 November 2015; 29 August 1916; 09 January 2017; 09 January 2019; 12, 13, 14 & 22 May 2025]; Timaru Herald, 16 August 1966, 17 August 1966 [x 2], 9 June 1969 (Timaru District Library) [09 January 2017]; Timaru Herald, 9 June 1969 (Timaru District Library) [18 August 2017]; 1901 Scotland Census return (ancestry.com.au) [09 January 2017]; NZ Electoral Rolls (ancestry.com.au) [09 January 2017; 12 May 2025]; NZ Defence Force Personnel Records (Archives NZ ref. AABK 22525 W5712 B.R. 37/3014) [15 January 2017]; Probate record (Archives NZ/FamilySearch) [13 June 2017]; UK, RAF Officer Service Records, 1918-1919 (ancestry.com.au) [12 May 2025]; US Arriving & Departing Lists (ancestry.com.au) [09 January 2017]; UK Outward Passenger List (ancestry.com.au) [12 May 2025]; Bromley Crematorium plaque image (Find A Grave) [12 May 2025]

External Links

Related Documents

• PEARSON George Alexander - newspaper clippings (pdf, 192.3 KB updated 27-Jun-2025)

Researched and Written by

Teresa Scott, SC Genealogy Society

Currently Assigned to

TS