Good company

There isn't a mass exodus out of Dorchester. It is quite the reverse. People are moving in droves, attracted by low rents, easy amenities, creature comforts and that certain Dorchester je n'est c'est quoi that no one can put their finger on. It's as apparent at the Sugar Bowl as it's apparent at the Mud House as it's apparent at Saint's Diner. Dorchester exerts a magnetic pull that attracts the iron in Bostonians' blood. Going out of business? Not in Dorchester.

Red Line ridership is up and we don't mean the Braintree branch. People are flocking to the stops headed toward Ashmont, Ashmont itself, and on to Mattapan beyond. UMASS Boston and Laboure College are located in Dorchester, but this isn't the most academically minded part of Beantown. This is the working part of the city, full of regular Johns and Janes and Luk Nows and Mimis and Taneshas and Marys and Tyrones and Nathans and Bryces and Toms, Harrys and Charlenes. This is the place where chowderheads and chuckleheads and layabouts and tramps and gypsies find a place to lay their heads and get by, one day after another. The fish are jumping in Dorchester Bay and the living is easy further inland.

Smart boys live in Dorchester. Smart girls do too.

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