The appointment of this young, inexperienced ‘missionary’, as Alec called himself, was met with reservations by the Prison Officer's Magazine, an organ that well reflected the views of its increasingly dissident grass-roots membership. Nor did it meet with the unqualified approval of governors, all of whom were older than the new Commissioner, and most were former military men of higher rank than he, loyal to Ruggles-Brise and his methods of disciplined compassion. Some resented a ‘novice’ being put over them; others feared that they would not have the requisite skills to fulfil the new role expected of them. A dedication to ‘social service’ was displacing ‘sterling worth’ as the criterion for advancement and high hopes were trouncing hard facts.

Captain Gerold Clayton was one ambivalent governor. ‘Old One Lug’, as he was called, had joined the service in 1920 when one system was coming to an end and another was about to begin. His father had been Ruggles-Brise's lieutenant, and the son valued much of what they had done. He thought Paterson ‘a remarkable man’, but, defensive of his father and his legacy, bearing a grudge for being twice passed over for the inspectorate in favour of his juniors and, in his opinion, being unjustifiably reprimanded for some of his actions, he could be scathing about his commander.