Creative people such as artists, inventors, engineers, and architects often become so absorbed in their work that it becomes a part of their persona. Any ridicule or even well-meant criticism of their work can be, for some, a personal affront, and their consequent defensive posturing often leads others to presume them arrogant–of course the same generalisation can be made about other professions, including doctors, lawyers, the rich, and persons in authority. In UK cities, up until the mid-seventies, the office of city surveyor carried with it considerable power in decision making, and even though the town clerk was the chief officer, unlike the city surveyor he did not have the advantage of a specialised professional background. I use the term ‘advantage’ because most mayors and city councillors became as dependent on the city surveyor's expertise as they did on their own lawyer, doctor, or dentist. Since water supply, sewage disposal, and well-paved roads have determined the success or failure of cities since Roman times, an expert city surveyor could do much to relieve councillors' minds of these practical concerns, so enabling them to pursue more ethereal occupations.

Colonel James MacKinder, surveyor for the city of Londonderry, was not oblivious of his power. He well understood the importance of his operation and protected his bailiwick with all the zest and vigour of a medieval baron. Certainly he seemed to be both pompous and arrogant and, despite his tweedy look, had never discarded his military rank upon returning to civilian life.