Within the Central Hawke's Bay community he soon became known as "The Commander" - and the title was very fitting.
Although to his younger brother he was simply dubbed "old boy" and to his nieces he was "Uncle B".
And it would be fair to say "The Commander" would have been most interested in hearing that a new and acclaimed feature film had been made, and was now showing in the district he settled in, about Dunkirk.
For Commander Brian Dean, DSO, served with the Royal Navy and commanded the destroyer HMS Sabre with remarkable skill and bravery during the 1940 Dunkirk operation to rescue thousands of allied troops pushed to the French coastline by, at that stage of the war, overpowering German forces.
But as his niece Hilary Pedersen said her late uncle, who died at 81 in 1976, was not the sort of chap who made a major issue about his achievements.
"He was an understated man of great stamina and courage," she said, adding that the arrival from the UK of her distinguished uncle in the late 1960s proved an interesting time for the wider family - and the CHB community.
"This bearded, mild-mannered and unassuming English gentleman brought a new and somewhat mysterious dimension to the family - and the Otane community."
His stately appearance once saw him invited to "sit" for the local art group and one of the resulting portraits, by Jean Alexander, now hangs on the wall in Hilary's home.
His slightly humble approach to life, along with a clear and sharp sense of humour, is illustrated in a remarkable 175-page memoir of his life he painstakingly typed out for family and friends.
In his opening paragraphs he sets out to explain why he wrote it and opens with "I feel that an apology is due from anyone of such mediocre attainments for presuming to write his life story".
After explaining why he did it (having been asked by so many people about his life and exploits) he writes "I hope this somewhat lame explanation will satisfy those whose first reaction on seeing the book will be 'what right has that old blighter to write his memoirs?' ... or simply 'never 'eard of 'im'!"
His attainments were far from mediocre, and he went through tough years of naval service having joined the Royal Navy College at Osborne in January 1908 - a month before his 13th birthday.
"It was soon brought home to me that in spite of wearing an officer's uniform I was in fact one of the lowest forms of marine life."
It was a tough introduction to the service and to life, but he relished the challenges, and took the occasional "resounding whack" and simply carried on.
Hilary said he and his brother (her father Harry) were the oldest and youngest of four and were world's apart.
Their father had been a captain in the Royal Navy and had commanded the HMS Hilary.
"She sank and I am her namesake," Hilary said.
The father's naval career ensured the oldest lad followed in his footsteps.
"His youngest [her dad] meanwhile blotted his copybook when he failed to attend an opening exam to law school opting instead for a mid-week rugby match ... he was consigned to the colonies and became a sheep farmer."
It would be very many years later that the younger brother would welcome older brother to "the colonies".
And it would be a welcome retirement in a peaceful part of the world after his extensive and distinguished, and so often dangerous, war years.
His most notable exploit was at Dunkirk and like so many, his devotion to duty and ensuring he could return home as many stranded troops was outstanding.
Pretty well every vessel that could float embarked across the English Channel and at the end of the great mission the HMS Sabre, with Commander Brian Dean leading from the bridge, made 10 voyages between Dunkirk and Dover - rescuing about 6000 troops while under near constant attack.
And the HMS Sabre was the very last ship to eventually leave Dunkirk.
His first words about the great mission cut to the chase.
"Dunkirk was already a blazing inferno and it seemed impossible that anyone could be alive in the town."
He wrote of hearing the German aircraft homing in on the ships.
"A stream of tracer came at us and rattled against the ship's side and deck.
"My leading signalman, who was standing beside me on the bridge crumpled up with a groan - he had got a machine-gun bullet through the leg."
Typical of the stoic stance of the navy lads, the signalman after returning to duty a few weeks later said he was annoyed at having "missed all the fun".
They took aboard boat after boat-load of troops from the beaches.
"Our decks were literally crammed with troops - a rough count showed there were about 800 aboard."
And the ferrying of those exhausted lads carried on until the job was done.
"We were glad to see our soldiers safe ashore."
Commander Dean got through unscathed, but injury did eventually catch up with him, as Hilary explained.
"Uncle B's stooped elderly frame was topped by a sparse head of hair in the middle of which was a noticeable dent.
"This was apparent only when he was seated and you were standing at the back of his chair looking down upon it."
That dent came with a story - the result of a huge Atlantic wave that crashed over the bridge of HMS Sabre and flattened Commander Dean who suffered a fractured skull.
He was subsequently removed from active service and "condemned to shore" to serve out the remainder of his naval career.
He stayed in England but after his wife died, and having no children, he could not contemplate a lonely retirement on the naval base at Crombie Point in Scotland.
So he made his way to New Zealand, and Otane, for the last seven years of his life.
He left a lasting impact on everyone he met and his death accordingly made the front page of the Central Hawke's Bay Press at the time.
"Uncle Brian's Dunkirk legacy lives on among his family, filtering down now to my niece's children and my son's family of four - my grandchildren," Hilary said.
Six months after "Uncle Brian" died in April 1976 her father also passed way.
"They lie now only four plaques apart in the RSA plot of the Waipukurau cemetery."