Left: A photo of mum and dad with me outside, granddads and grandma Barlow’s house.

Like my younger sister and my parents before me, I was born in Crumsal Hospital in Manchester on 1 March 1948. My mother worked as a milliner in a hat factory in Manchester. She met my father at a dance at the local indoor swimming pool – a timber dance floor was laid over the pool. It was love at first sight and they were married within 12 months.

My father served in India during World War II. He never spoke about it, expect to recount this one story that has stayed with me as a life lesson. One day, the Sergeant Major in my father’s unit told all the soldiers to pack up all their gear and weapons as they were marching out of camp. They marched all morning in the boiling hot sun, stopped for lunch, and then were told to turn around and march back. When they were within sight of their camp, they were ordered to march double-time. Everyone was exhausted and my dad said he was so tired, that he was dragging his feet as some soldiers were jogging past him. Then he decided that he didn’t want to be the last one to reach the camp. He found the energy and arrived in the middle of the group. He said to me: ‘remember this: if you can’t be first, don’t be last’. I’ve passed this lesson onto my sons, too.

I grew up in Failsworth, which is five miles north of Manchester. I went to St Mary’s Catholic school from when I was 5 to 15 years old. It was lovely. For my first couple of years at school, I stayed at my grandmother’s house during the week, as it was close enough to walk to school, whereas my parent’s house was further away. My grandfather died when I was two years old, so I think my grandma liked the company. She had an allotment for growing vegetables and was secretary of the local horticultural society. I joined as a junior member and this is how I learnt about gardening, which has been a life-long hobby.

I had to learn to be independent from a young age. When I was about 8 or 9 years old, I was given a key to the front door of our family home, as both my parents were working. I’d walk for 45 minutes to get home after school and then let myself in. I learnt to put the coal in the grate and start a fire to warm up the living room. I was an obedient child and good at cooking, cleaning, and helping around the house. I think this helped to convince my parents that I’d survive, when I later decided to immigrate to Australia.

I would not have come to Australia if it wasn’t for a red guitar. When I was about 14 years old, I loved listening to Cliff Richards and the Shadows, and decided that I wanted to play the guitar like Hank Marvin. I saw a red, electric, Hofner guitar in a shop for £30, which was a lot of money in those days! (My parents had a combined income of about £30/week). I saved up all the money I earnt from delivering newspapers after school on my bike, until I was able to pay off the guitar. I also bought a little amplifier and would practice in the loungeroom when my father was at the club having a few drinks with his mates.

One night, I invited my friend Mike over to practice guitar with me, but my Mum said we couldn’t use the loungeroom as she wanted to watch her favourite program, ‘Coronation Street’, on the TV. We had to practice in the kitchen, which was freezing. I opened the gas oven and put my feet in it to try and keep warm, but it was impossible to play the guitar with half-frozen fingers. I was complaining to Mike about how much I hated the cold weather, and he said that he’d seen a poster in the Town Hall advertising for boys aged between 17-21 years to migrate to work in Australia. I knew that Australia had a warm climate, so the next day, I was on my bike, pedalling to the Town Hall to find this poster. I wrote down the details and came straight home to tell Mum. She didn’t believe me, but let me write to the BBM, and they invited me to an interview in Manchester. My Mum came with me to find out more about the BBM. Next, I was invited to London for an interview. This was exciting and a bit scary, as the furthest my Mum and I had ever been was to Blackpool on family holidays. Luckily my mother’s Uncle Walter lived just outside of London with his wife, and they met us at the train station and helped us to find Australia House. We had the interview and I waited to find out if I was accepted as a Little Brother. I soon received a letter telling me that I would be sailing on the SS Australis on 17 December 1965. My mother came to Southampton with me to say farewell. I had one suitcase, £30 in my pocket, and my red guitar over my shoulder. I still have that guitar today.

Left: Allan Pearson (left) and two other Little Brothers, Joe Ward and Martin Harrison with their guitars on the SS Australis, 1965.

The voyage was amazing. I shared a cabin with three other Little Brothers and most of us played the guitar. I remember sailing through the Suez Canal and seeing the palm trees silhouetted against the setting sun. It’s not something you’d ever see in Manchester!

We arrived in Fremantle, and were taken on a tour of Perth, which was like a big country town in 1966. Once we docked in Sydney, we were taken to a Bungalow at the top of Burwood Road. I shared a room with my fellow guitarists from the SS Australis.  I chose not to go and work on the farm but the BBM had trouble finding a suitable job for me, as I hadn’t really worked in England – apart from my paper round.

After I finished school at the age of 15 years, my dad organised an interview for me to get an apprenticeship as an electrical engineer. I didn’t understand what the job was about and I didn’t want to do it. My Dad was angry about this. My school teacher said I was good enough at art to get into Oldham College of Art. He helped me to put a portfolio together and I won the one position that was left in the course. My Dad was not happy about this either, as he thought that everyone who went to art school was gay. He wasn’t going to let me go.

About this time, the sports master at school suggested that I try out for the Manchester United Football Team. He chose me and three other football (soccer) players to go to the trials. I grabbed this opportunity, but instead of trying to get into Manchester United, one of the premier football teams in England, I asked to go to the trials for the Oldham Athletics fourth division football team. There was no prestige associated with this team, but I got in, whereas the three other boys from my school who tried out for Manchester United didn’t make it. People laughed at me when I said I was going to play for Oldham Athletic, but my dad was so happy that I would be playing football, and it meant I could go to art collect in Oldham! I studied there for two years until I completed my Diploma of Art.

Left: Allan during his Diploma of Art

In the summer break, I worked in a display shop. The company was called Red Arrow, and they rented TVs to people. Every renter was given a native American Indian plastic figurine, about 12 cm high, and it was my job to paint them. This led to the BBM placing me in a job in a display shop in Kings Cross. I was 17 years old and only earning 5/week. It was hard to live off this income, but I sent an aerogramme to my parents telling them that I was getting along just fine.

One of my jobs at the display shop was to prepare the mannequins that were sent from Germany for display. The mannequins arrived in parts, and I had to put them together and fill in any gaps in the seams with putty and then sand them back. I felt quite self-conscious sanding female bottoms and boobs!

On 14 February 1966 we swapped pounds and pence for dollars and cents. It sounded much better to say that I was earning $10/week, but it was still hard to pay for my boarding house and public transport to work. My BBM mate, Martin Harrison, suggested that I go to the Waverley Bus depot and apply to be a bus conductor. It was easy to get a job selling tickets on the buses and my wage jumped to $60/week! Two years later, I trained as a bus driver and started earning $190/week!! My dad taught me to drive in the UK, but it was totally different driving a double-decker bus on the hilly, narrow Sydney streets.

Left The buses that Allan drove in Sydney in the late 1960s. Photographs from the Sydney Bus Museum.

Bus driving was one of the best jobs I’ve ever had. I joined the Waverley Bus Depot soccer team, and we were given time off to practice and play matches. We played other bus depot teams around Sydney and as far afield as Newcastle and Wollongong. I was getting paid to play soccer! I was earning a lot of money and saving as much as I could. This proved useful, as in 1969, my mother rang to say that my sister was getting married in August and would I be able to come home for the wedding?

I decided that I would go, and that I’d fly back. I borrowed a single decker bus from the depot in my break, and drove into the city to book my airfare, parking in a bus stop. When I discovered that it would cost me $1000 to fly one-way, I had to re-think my plans. It was only $450 to go by ship, sailing across the Pacific Ocean and via the Panama Canal, which was exciting. I booked my passage, but had to resign from my job at the bus depot as I would be away for several months. I left England as a boy in 1966 and returned as a man.

With my savings from my job, I paid for the food at my sister’s wedding reception. I also gave them some money for their honeymoon, so that they could go to somewhere better than Blackpool. I had left my housemate Martin with some money to cover my share of the rent for our flat in Waverley, as I was planning to return in October. But Mum asked if I’d stay for Christmas. I felt I couldn’t refuse. When snow fell on Christmas Eve, it was beautiful, which helped to make the cold climate more bearable.

When I started making plans to return to Sydney, my Mum asked me if I’d stay for my birthday on 1 March. Once again, it was impossible to refuse, as she was getting old and I knew that there wouldn’t be many more opportunities to get back to see her. However, I was running out of money, so I went to the Oldham Bus Depot to try and get a job as a bus driver. They told me that my bus license wasn’t valid in England, and offered me a job as a bus conductor instead. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done – selling tickets and giving change in pounds, shillings and pence. Decimal currency is so much simpler!

After my birthday, I really needed to get back to Australia, but I didn’t have enough money to pay for my passage. My Mum said that she had a savings account at the post office, that my father didn’t know about, and she offered to dip into it to pay for my fare. She was so grateful that I had stayed with her for nearly seven months. I was glad I did too, as it was the last time that I saw my mother. After I’d been back in Sydney for about three months, my dad sent a letter saying that my mother had been admitted to hospital to have her big toe amputated (she was diabetic). He suggested that I phone the hospital to speak to her. In 1970, you had to book an overseas call at the post office. She was so excited to speak to me for four minutes. My dad phoned later the same day to say that she had passed, but she was happy because she’d spoken to her son.

Back in Sydney, I couldn’t get a job driving buses, but I found one with Gartrell White in Newtown. They made Top Taste cakes and Big Ben pies. I designed and screen-printed their advertising, shop displays, and packaging for their products. Now I was being paid to do artwork! I worked there for 20 years and loved it.

Left: One of Allan’s artworks (in pen and ink) for Top Taste, Big Ben pies.

Around this time, I met Peta, my future wife, at a wine bar in Lavender Bay. I asked her out, and she wanted me to meet her parents on our first date! I agreed that they could come to the house I shared with some friends and my greyhound in Lavender Bay and I would cook dinner for everyone. I thought they were wonderful people. I took Peta out for dinner the following week and asked her to marry me after we’d only known each other for two weeks! Fortunately, she said yes, and that was the start of our life together.

We were married on 3 January 1977, at an old stone church in Carlingford, near where Peta lived with her parents. We honeymooned in Tasmania and, after the bustle of Sydney, it was so peaceful. We have four sons – Stuart, Adam, David and Thomas – and eight grandchildren, and I’m proud of them all.

Left: Peta and Allan on their wedding day, 1977.

Football (soccer) has always been a big part of my life.  At the age of 15 years, I joined the English Fourth Division Club, Oldham Athletic. In Sydney I played for Chelsea, a sister club of the English First Division club of the same name. I have been a referee, and trained as a level 2 coach. I played my last professional game at the age of 50 years, and only stopped because I was taking my youngest son, Thomas, to Blacktown three nights/week for training.

After I finished working at Gartrell White in 1990, I went to work for Taubman’s Paints as the advertising and promotions manager for NSW.  Then my two passions of football and art merged in my next job. The manager of the soccer club at West Ryde had a sportswear shop, and he wanted to get some t-shirts printed for a local school. I said I could do it for him, and set up a little printing shop in the garage of our house in Carlingford and later in our new home in Beecroft. This led to more jobs for the local girl guides and scouts and other sports clubs, which enabled me to build a small business called ‘Adam’s Apple Screen-printing’.

Left: An advertising brochure for Adam’s Apple Sport, designed by Allan.

The business expanded beyond our garage and I bought a factory in Castle Hill. I hired some women who could sew, and we started making the clothing as well. We designed and made quality clothing that our customers liked. Our business boomed to the point where half the kids playing on the fields with the Gladesville-Hornsby Soccer Association on a Saturday were wearing Adam’s Apple Sportswear.

However, even good things must come to an end. One by one, our sewers retired and it was hard to replace them.  We stopped manufacturing the clothing and went back to just screen-printing, but it wasn’t commercially viable. After 25 years, we closed the business and sold the factory.

My next job might seem like a career change, but it still involved art and working with people, which is what I love. I started working at a Transitional Care Unit on the Northern Beaches as a Recreational and Activities Officer (RAO) in 2012. I organised activities for the residents who were in transitional care. From bingo to Mad Hatters Tea Parties to art classes – we had a lot of fun together.  One year, I mounted an exhibition of my artworks, with everything for sale and the profits donated back to the facility. In May 2014 I felt honoured to be chosen as Employee of the Month, out of all the Uniting Care employees between Newcastle and Wollongong.

It all turned sour when a new manager took over the facility in 2020. She wanted the residents’ paintings taken down off the common room walls and criticised everything I did. She made my working life hell, so I decided to resign. The residents were very upset but understood why I was leaving. They made me a special book with photos of the activities and all the happy times we’d had together.  Now I work as a volunteer at a local aged care facility for two mornings/week.

Migrating to Australia with the BBM has given me a wonderful life. It’s the best thing I ever did, and I couldn’t wish for anything more.

Below: Allan Pearson with his red, Hofner guitar, 2024.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Below: On board of the Australis, where we took part in the entertainment, in January 1966.

 

 

 

 

 

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