Though becoming a powerful force within Freemasonry was not Dunckerley's original life goal, he embraced it as a vocation. With no gainful employment, ever, after 1764, Freemasonry presented itself as an engaging way to occupy himself. With no public rank, it enabled him to demonstrate his merit and achieve status and authority. Having rejected his actual family, Freemasonry became his new brotherhood. Eventually, Dunckerley even came to envision Freemasonry as a creative outlet, a place he could make his own reality, one expressed in properly arranged orders and degrees. Thus, even though the expenses associated with Freemasonry contributed mightily to his constant financial complaints, Dunckerley devoted the last thirty years of his life to the Craft for which he developed such heartfelt affection and respect. As much as Dunckerley embraced Freemasonry during his life, in the centuries since his death Freemasons have embraced the heroic mannequin he invented.

If not for Freemasonry, Thomas Dunckerley would have been an obscure historical figure indeed. It is unclear how early or how widely his spurious birth story was disseminated beyond Dunckerley's own mailing lists. The claim appears in the press, casually, by the late 1770s, and the very first public mention may be the mocking notice about the occasional lodge Dunckerley held at Coxheath.