Dr John (Jock) Allison did not always subscribe to what society expected.
Instead, he trusted his own moral code, which was centred on integrity, fairness and possibility.
He did things his own way in every sphere of his life.
As a prominent Dunedin scientist, entrepreneur, former Invermay Research Centre director and former AgResearch director, he was a force to be reckoned with — it was very hard to say no to him.
It helped make him an agriculture industry pioneer and powerhouse, and some have described him as the single greatest contributor to improving the reproductive rate of New Zealand sheep, thereby improving New Zealand farming and the economy.
Born in Cromwell Hospital on October 15, 1943, to Ella and Tom Allison, it was clear he was a born fighter.
He arrived prematurely and the hospital did not have a proper incubator, so his tiny body was placed in a shoe box with oxygen.
He wasn’t expected to last the night, but he fought and survived, and from that day on, he was known only as Jock.
His early life was spent on his parents’ farm at Queensberry, with his older sisters June and Kate.
Later, they moved to a new farm at Hāwea Flat and he attended Hāwea Flat School.
His parents believed in a strong education for their children — each for different reasons.
Tom was exceptionally bright, but had to leave school at age 12 to work on the family farm; and Ella was a teacher with a bachelor of arts degree from the University of Otago.
Jock and his sisters would come home from school each day and be made to do further lessons at the kitchen table.
He went on to attend Waitaki Boys’ High School as a boarder before studying at Lincoln University as part of the government’s rural field cadet scheme.
He gained a bachelor of agricultural science degree (first class honours) in sheep production, and was named the senior scholar.
He went on to graduate with a master of agricultural science, again with first class honours in sheep production.
He loved the student life and the pranks that came with it, such as filling a fellow student’s dorm room with hay bales.
When he wasn’t stacking hay, he represented Lincoln in cricket and golf, and he was in the New Zealand University golf team.
During his student days he also met his future wife Hilary (nee Watson) — a Christchurch nursing student, from Invercargill.
They were married in Invercargill, on December 11, 1965.
After university, he joined the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries which later supported him to go to Sydney University on a Commonwealth scholarship to do a PhD in agricultural science.
His PhD research focused on the fertilisation process in ewes.
During that time, his first child, Katherine, was born.
He completed his doctorate in 1970 and moved his family to Mosgiel, to work at the Invermay Research Centre.
Soon after, his second daughter Amy was born in 1971.
Asked if he was sad he never had a son, Jock said it never crossed his mind.
He had a "girls can do anything" approach, well before his time.
At Invermay, he continued to do top-class research as part of the animal production unit.
His work was to make sheep more productive by using data, measurement and the best mix of the most productive genes from all breeds around the world.
His research into ways to increase lambing percentages, meat and milk production through genetics, management and measurement, transformed New Zealand farming.
The step-change in productivity was huge.
In the early years, his achievement made him unpopular with the breeders’ societies because he proposed the use of data and genetics — not opinion and form.
But New Zealand is more productive now with 27 million sheep than it was with 73m sheep in the early 1980s.
His research also influenced productivity gains for beef and venison too.
The power of genetics was central to Dr Allison — it framed his career and sated his curious mind.
But he also understood the power of science only came from farmers adopting scientific innovation.
As a scientist and Invermay director, his ability to creatively manoeuvre public service rules for the benefit of science and farmers was the stuff of legend.
He could not stand pointless bureaucratic rules, particularly those made about agriculture, by people who knew nothing about farming realities.
He set a goal to get a new Invermay facility built at a time when the economy was deteriorating, and resources were being consolidated northwards.
He convinced his superiors and ministers to allocate the money with forthright presentations, which included throwing a bag of rotten wood on to a minister’s desk to show the conditions his scientists were working in.
Government ministers and other decision-makers often received frank and fearless advice, whether they wanted it or not.
Outside of work, Jock threw himself in to "the Taieri life".
He loved the Taieri Golf Club, where he was club champion from 1971-75.
He also helped set up the Taieri Squash Club and was proud to be part of the Dunedin Cavaliers Cricket Club.
In 1986, he left Invermay to become a consultant, leaving many friends and colleagues surprised and saddened.
But he was itching to get into the private sector, where he was able to move into sheep genetics importations.
All the impactful boosts to sheep production in New Zealand have his fingerprints on them.
The infusion of the East Friesian breed, which produced more lambs — and more milk to feed them, was regarded by many as the greatest advance to the sheep industry in the past 50 years.
The story and success of his importation of East Friesians was well-known in the agriculture sector, but the extreme risk he managed and the supreme self-belief and skill he needed to make the initiative a reality, was not so well known.
It is a good example of who he was.
He travelled the world as a consultant for many different governments.
He never talked about some of the dangers of his work.
When he was harvesting sheep embryos in Israel in the 1990s, Scud missiles were falling, but he refused to cancel his work.
Another time, while working between Russia and Bahrain, he picked up a rare muscle melting disease while on a government trade mission, and ended up in a Bahrain hospital for six weeks.
He was delighted to be one of a small percentage of people to have actually survived the disease.
His children often asked where he was going while he was preparing for these trips, and he would always reply: "I’m just going to see a man about a dog."
He was not just a great thinker. He was a pillar of strength and a great mentor to others.
He served on many boards, including the Wool Board, the Meat Board, the Lincoln University Council, the Telford Council, AgResearch, a2, and he was a director of Abacus Biotech.
In 2000, he received the New Zealand Society of Animal Production’s Sir Arthur Ward award, in recognition of his significant contribution to the extension and adoption of agricultural science, and he was also delighted to receive the New Zealand Order of Merit for services to agriculture.
Then in 2003, he was gratified to receive the Bledisloe Medal from Lincoln University for distinguished contributions to New Zealand’s land-based industries and for improving the reproductive rate of New Zealand sheep.
Despite all of his qualifications and titles, he never promoted or big-noted them.
If someone called him Dr Allison, he would respond by saying: "Just call me Jock."
It is rare for anyone in their professional career to be known by so many high-profile people across the globe solely by their adopted name.
It showed his influence and standing on the world stage, and for "Jock", it was the greatest accolade a man could have.
While all his awards were appreciated, he never sought or expected them.
What really drove him was making improvements in New Zealand agriculture, for the benefit of farmers and the common good.
Not only did he work on the importation of sheep, he worked on the importation of buffalo, South African goats, and even penguins.
One of his many remarkable achievements came in 2002, when he got the dairy and meat industry into the same room as AgResearch, and got them to fund the sequencing of the cattle genome, along with other countries around the world.
That commitment meant the cattle genome was prioritised for sequencing as the first farmed animal species — a considerable achievement, considering it required bringing together international interests.
Jock also took a great interest in climate science and spent 20 years researching it.
He attacked the issues with his characteristic fervour; he devoured difficult scientific papers on all sides of the debate and he reached out and traded thoughts and ideas with the world’s leading researchers.
And they held Jock in high regard.
He challenged them, learnt from them and confirmed the best of what they offered.
Later in life, Jock enjoyed being a grandfather.
Ever the scientist, when each of his grandchildren were born, he would plot their growth rates, weights and heights, and regularly report on their progress.
Jock lived as he died — steadfast, loyal and bold.
He died, aged 80, on May 11, 2024 at Dunedin Hospital, and is survived by wife Hilary, daughters Katherine Rich and Amy Allison, and his grandchildren. — John Lewis.
