Dorchester is not a Sin City, its not even a city in and of itself though it is bigger than most stand-alone municipalities in midwestern states. Dorchester more populous, more stretching and more vibrant than Hinton, WV. Likewise Wewoka, OK. But Dorchester doesn't stand alone in the middle of nowhere. It is bound as one into the greater destiny of the great metropolis of Boston, Massachusetts, the Athens of America, the Hub of the Universe. Dorchester is one of the pillars that support a world-class city and increase its justified fame.
Though it has its own courthouse, Dorchester is not a county seat. It is a bystander kind of place, an audience as much as an minor actor, the kind of place where you don't find excitement so much as you find home. Dorchester isn't an understudy for the rest of Boston. It has its own culture and plays by its own rules. Dorchester is not the star of the show but a character that keeps the plot of history moving along, a foil to Beacon Hill, the North End, the Back Bay. Dorchester exists to show what happens when honest, everyday people withstand the tempting vices a big city offers. Dorchesterites are the salt of earth that counters the pepper pot of big city spice.
If you don't count people who play the state lottery, you won't find any gamblers in Dorchester. People look at scratch-off tickets as potential investments no more dangerous than playing the stock market and often enough just as lucrative. This is a neighborhood of planners who rarely spend beyond their means, who sock cash away for college, who drive cars to the end of their blue book value and who clip coupons to eke a paycheck over a week's worth of suppers.
Movies get filmed in Dorchester though Elvis Presley never made one here. When Dorchesterites walk their streets they have a satisfied swagger in their hips. They walk the walk of the self-assured. It isn't a glamorous place but it is a comfortable one. Vini, vidi, dottie: I came, I saw, I live in Dorchester.