Editor’s note: Tommy Thompson has served on The Marjorie’s Advisory Council since we became a non-profit organization in 2017. He has supported The Marjorie with advice, connections to major funds, and his generous spirit since our inception.

“It was cold as hell. It was just awful.”

Packed closely in Tommy Thompson’s small skiff that frigid morning of December 2008 was former President Jimmy Carter, Carter’s daughter Amy and grandson Hugo, and a member of the U.S. Secret Service.

“You’ve been in my skiff, if you can imagine” he reminds me. “It’s pretty tight.”

I am sitting across from Thompson on a gray sectional in his den, flanked by enough fishing gear to stock a small tackle shop. A large mounted tarpon glares at me from the wall. When telling this particular story, he makes sure to tell me it’s the hook of what I’m writing.

Thompson said the group talked and fished for about an hour, with more members of the U.S. Secret Service hovering nearby in a U.S. Coast Guard vessel.

“I taught Hugo how to use a spinning rod, and he caught a big trout,” Thompson said, adding that President Carter was pleased his grandson caught and released that fish, even though he had caught none.

“Only trout we caught all day.”

When I hear this particular anecdote, I’m impressed, but not surprised. If anyone were asked to take a former president fishing, it would be him. But this iconic fishing tale is just one moment in a career centered on connecting people and uniting them in the name of preserving Florida’s natural side — those nooks and crannies and unpaved places that still exist in a state boasting more than 21 million people, if you know where to look. 

Through his writing, photography, and work as a trusted advisor, Thompson has brought the beauty and importance of those wild places – too often seen as ripe land for the next subdivision – into focus. 

I met Thompson over a decade ago through my work at Florida Sea Grant, a coastal education and research organization based at the University of Florida. I was a content producer for the communications arm of the organization, and soon after I was hired I joined the Florida Outdoor Writers Association (FOWA), where he was the executive director following a term as the organization’s president.

It didn’t take me long to realize that among those passionate about conserving Florida’s wild side, particularly in north Florida, Capt. Tommy Thompson was a household name.

Many new and experienced anglers across the state have putted out on Thompson’s classic Shipoke skiff to reel in their next catch along Florida’s Big Bend. The region is home to over 400,000 acres of seagrass and is part of the largest continuous seagrass meadow in the Gulf of Mexico.

Thompson is always sure to explain to his clients that seagrass is an important nursery habitat for the game fish that support not only their hobby, but also Florida’s $9.2 billion recreational fishing industry.

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Tommy Thompson is one of those people who is usually referred to by first and last name, perhaps because he’s had so many bylines.

As a seasoned and accomplished writer and photographer, Thompson has always had an instinct – and an eye – for a good story. His resume is long and varied, but he is perhaps most known for his fishing advice in Florida Sportsman magazine, where he has written “at least a bazillion,” words since 2002. That includes feature stories, a monthly Big Bend fishing column, a weekly fishing forecast column, and a monthly cooking column. He also wrote a fishing advice column titled, “Ask Professor Flounder,” while president of the Gainesville Offshore Fishing Club. He’s the author of two Saltwater Angler’s Guides, one for Tampa Bay and Southwest Florida and the other for Florida’s Big Bend and the Emerald Coast, published by the University Press of Florida as part of their “Wild Florida” series. His self-published photo book, “The Aerial Advantage,” features aerial images of the rocky, rugged Gulf coastlines of Dixie and Taylor counties.

“Good fishing just doesn’t happen,” he said. “You’ve got to know where to fish. You’ve got to know how to fish. You’ve got to know where the water’s good. And in some places, you just don’t want to fish.”

Much of his writing includes important practical information for fishermen scouting new spots such as boat ramp locations and what to pack in the tacklebox. But, he’s careful to express genuine care for every place he writes about.

“There’s something special about fishing quietly with just a few anglers, on an untouched part of Florida’s west coast, catching big fish on light tackle. It’s something you need to try firsthand and just as I was hooked after my first Big Bend wade-fishing trip, you will be, too,” wrote Thompson in a 2004 Florida Sportsman feature about wade fishing titled, “Walk on the Wet Side.”

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As a newly minted Florida Sea Grant agent with the University of Florida Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, Savanna Barry remembers receiving an email from Thompson, welcoming her to the position and inviting her on a boat ride out of Sea Hag Marina in Steinhatchee. Barry accepted the invitation. One of Barry’s first priorities in the role was to get to know her new community and learn more about the local issues like seagrass loss and coastal erosion.

“Obviously I had been out of Steinhatchee before, but it was cool to go out with him because he did bring a different perspective,” Barry said. “He looks at things as a fisherman and a naturalist. He has so many hats that he wears.”

Barry said that while out on the boat, Thompson took genuine interest in the large seagrass meadows she studied in graduate school. He also served on the advisory council for the UF School of Forest, Fisheries, and Geomatic Sciences, helping shape the curriculum she had just completed for her doctorate.

“I guess that’s one part of his knowledge where he felt he could learn more,” she said. “He is always learning himself and always has had his own curiosity about the natural resources in the area.”

After that boat trip, Barry asked Thompson to serve on the advisory council she was assembling to help guide her in which problems to focus on and what people to bring to the table.

“He always brought a really important and diverse set of perspectives,” she said. “It’s always nice to have someone like that in your corner.”

Barry said Thompson connected her to outdoor writers, photographers, and tourism groups in Florida who helped spread the word about her work developing living shorelines and promoting her Florida Friendly Fishing Guide Certification Program. 

“He is a uniter of people and always is thinking about who would go well with who else he might know,” Barry said. “He’s never been selfish about that.”

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Thompson’s ability to connect people and ideas has helped shape how Florida presents itself to the world. He was once selected for a task force for Visit Natural North Florida, a governmental entity that promotes tourism in north central Florida. Thompson’s goal was to encourage both domestic and international visitors to skip Disney World and explore the springs, undisturbed coastlines, world-class fishing, and paddling and hiking trails in north Florida instead. This is a noble goal as many studies have found that time spent in nature is associated with pro-environmental attitudes and behaviors.

“And typically speaking, we would rather the people who visited last year say ‘I’m coming back and I want to see nothing but natural stuff,’” he said. “That was a big part of what we had to sell, how we sold it. We wanted people to be good tourists.”

Although he helped promote the area to visitors via tourism shows in the U.S. and Europe, he also devoted much of his time to the Coastal Conservation Association, lending his voice to statewide efforts to protect Florida’s marine resources. Just as with his writing, he used those roles to keep attention on the long-term health of the state’s waters. 

Thompson’s biggest message these days? 

 “I want people to know that Florida is not for sale,” he said.

“Whether you’re coming to Florida for a day or a lifetime, make every effort to leave our state better than when you arrived. Don’t think about what you’re going to catch next week, think about whether your children and grandchildren are going to go out and be able to catch a fish.”

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When I first met Thompson, I was heading to board a small boat with a local guide in Crystal River for my first scalloping trip during the 2014 Florida Outdoor Writers Association annual conference. While scallops used to be abundant in my hometown of Pensacola, bad water quality wiped them out before I was born. But here in the Nature Coast’s pristine waters, they thrived. Here, our limit was a five-gallon bucket with our Florida fishing license.

It was the middle of summer, and I probably wasn’t wearing enough sunscreen. But I couldn’t wait. Back at my office in Gainesville, I had been editing informational brochures about recreational scalloping for Florida Sea Grant.

The free brochures were displayed at bait shops and some guides kept copies on their boats for visitors. They included critical information for “Florida’s underwater Easter egg hunt,” such as the bag limits and season dates, how to obtain a fishing license, a map of where to find and harvest scallops, and a scallop ceviche or pasta recipe with photos by Tommy Thompson.

On my way to the dock, I spotted Thompson, the organization’s executive director, pointing people in the direction of their next activity.

He introduced himself in his warm and welcoming old Florida drawl and asked where I was from.

“Pensacola,” I answered.

“The redneck riviera,” he responded. I laughed. It wasn’t the first time I had heard this. 

But from that first meeting, he gave me the impression he wasn’t someone to forget names.

Dr. Rick Davidson, a retired medical doctor in Gainesville and Thompson’s best friend and long-time fishing buddy, agreed with me.

“He has a mind like a steel trap when it comes to people’s names and their stories,” Davidson said.

I also quickly learned Thompson is someone with whom you can shoot the shit.

The FOWA annual conference felt more like a camping trip with 75 of your closest friends including outdoor journalists, columnists, photographers and authors; communicators for environmental and agricultural agencies and institutions; and tourism and industry professionals. Held at locations all over the state, Thompson designed the conference as a way to explore each Florida community through its outdoor treasures.

As a native Floridian, I had already considered myself someone who loved and was drawn to the outdoors. But after that first conference I attended, I was left with immense pride for this state.

“I think that the Florida Outdoor Writers Association, while it was still functioning, contributed a lot to conservation and the general knowledge of conservation in the state,” Davidson said. “He [Thompson] really made the organization run for many, many years. After he retired, the organization soon folded.”

For Davidson, Thompson has a way of pulling people into new experiences and giving them confidence to try.

“There are all kinds of things that I probably wouldn’t have done if it weren’t for Tommy Thompson, things that have made my life better immeasurably,” Davidson said. “Everything from fly fishing to becoming a writer to shooting skeet.”

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Thompson shares the story of his life with me on that sunny mid-May morning in his den, pacing himself with vivid details, followed by witty one-liners.

He told me early on in our conversation that even though he loves to fish, he doesn’t eat very much of it.

“I’m allergic to fish unless it’s fried,” he joked. Fried mullet, specifically, he clarifies, glancing at me with a smirk.

He knows fried mullet is a staple in my hometown. 

He said he likes shellfish, like shrimp, but that the farmed ones are “a bit mushy.”

“Aquaculture may be a way to feed the masses,” he said.

“But not this mass.”

I laugh. Despite his jokes, Thompson is a skilled cook, and well-known for his recipes. For 10 years he wrote the Florida Sportsman’s “Sportsman’s Kitchen” column, where he advocated for only keeping what you could eat fresh.

“Scallops just don’t taste right once they’re frozen,” he said.

When Barry thinks about Thompson’s claim to fame, what first comes to mind is his fish picatta recipe.

“I’ve met people that work in fisheries in the Panhandle and they know that recipe and know his name from that recipe,” Barry said.

She remembers chatting with someone at the UF Natural Resources Leadership Institute, and mentioning Thompson was taking her out on the boat.

“And he was like, ‘Wait, Tommy Thompson? THE Tommy Thompson of the fish picatta recipe?’” Barry said. “Certainly his cooking content has captured a lot of people. He also taught me that C is cooked and O is overcooked for shrimp.”

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When not on the water or writing about the outdoors, Thompson has often been contracted by agencies, developers, and architects for photo assignments all over the U.S. and Europe. His pictures have appeared in 17 coffee table books about American colleges and universities by Harmony House Publishers.

“Paid the bills,” he said. “Outdoor writing doesn’t pay much.”

He also taught photography for a decade in the UF’s College of Journalism and Communications. He estimates he taught a couple hundred students during his tenure. 

“But only a dozen or two actually learned,” he joked. 

Isaac Brown, director and producer at Jellyfish Smack Productions, took a couple of Thompson’s classes at UF. 

“His classes were a great blend of technical skills and creative expression. He always taught us to improve our craft while still maintaining an empathetic and fun environment,” said Brown, who is now a professor of digital media at Florida State College at Jacksonville.

“Thompson helped set the standard for how I wanted to run my classes when I began teaching. He was a great role model on how to make a living with your camera and have fun along the way.”

The art of telling a good tale runs in Thompson’s family, he explains. His grandmother, Maggie Mizell Tarapani, and aunt Hilda Castaing were great storytellers, he said. He recalls Hilda telling stories while juggling a cigarette, a beer, and freshly shucked oysters at a family wedding in rural Hernando County.

“My cousin John could hardly shuck them fast enough.”

And the cast of characters doesn’t end there. One cousin, Bonnie Georgiadis was a Weeki Wachee mermaid. Another ancestor, a notorious cow-catcher and likely cattle rustler “Bone” Mizell, was once painted and sculpted as the “Cracker Cowboy” by the artist Frederic Remington. Thompson’s brother, Jerry, is a psychologist who enjoys being on the water but didn’t spend as much time on it as he did.

“Jerry loves to fish, but don’t count on his ability to tie a good, solid fishing knot,” Thompson said.  

Both of Thompson’s parents grew up in Tarpon Springs, just two houses apart on Spring Bayou. His dad’s family owned the Hotel Villa Plumosa, a classic Florida hotel catering to winter guests from up north.

The hotel was taken over by the U.S. Coast Guard during WWII and ceased operation in the 1950s. His mom’s family founded a clothing store in 1911 and are still active today in the community. Thompson’s dad learned to fish early in life with his mom’s brother, Buddy Tarapani, who would later become his brother-in-law.

 Thompson’s love of fishing, and the Gulf Coast, started before he was potty trained.

“There’s a picture of me in diapers with a dead tarpon on a dock somewhere,” he told me.

In 1949, when Thompson was about 6 months old, his family moved briefly to Pittsburgh, but they returned to central Florida within a year. His dad had a long career with Florida Power Corporation, mostly in St. Petersburg. He recalls riding the city bus alone, with a nickel bus fare tied in a hankie, to kindergarten in St. Pete.

He often fished with his father and uncle. As a sign that fishing was in Thompson’s future, his grandfather named his cabin cruiser the Tommy L. after him.

“We would go to Anclote Key to the beautiful beach and the lighthouse. My grandmother’s house in Tarpon Springs was right on Spring Bayou. It was all right there. We’d go down and catch a pinfish or blue crabs—but we were always fishing. It stayed that way into high school,” he said, smiling as he glanced in the direction of his wife, Mary, who was reading on a chair nearby.

“That is, until we learned about girls.”

In high school, Thompson had a point and shoot camera, but he upgraded to a Canon single lens reflex while in college at Emory University. A friend told him to shoot a roll of black-and-white film and take it to Bill Young, the university’s photographer and a former United Press International photojournalist, for processing.

“But he [Bill] told me to do it myself,” Thompson said. “It pushed me into the dark room early to do my own processing. I was hooked.”

Thompson worked at the Atlanta Photo Supply Company for about five years after college and made connections with press photographers from the local newspapers. During those years, he was able to photograph editorial and news assignments on the side. His work as a freelance photographer involved shooting for various outlets, including the Associated Press. In 1973, he became president of the Atlanta Press Photographers Association. He eventually began his commercial photography business in Atlanta, specializing in architectural and industrial photography.

During those years, Thompson had the chance to shoot a little of everything—from Talladega races to Hank Aaron’s legendary home run, to annual reports for international corporations. In the 1980s and ’90s, he was represented for assignments by Black Star, a photo agency in New York.  He also first met Jimmy Carter in the early ’70s at a press picnic at Stone Mountain. Now 77, Thompson has spent nearly six decades with a camera in hand.

Thompson met his wife Mary in the mid-1970s, while shooting for a design firm in Atlanta. In the early 1990s, the couple moved to Gainesville so Mary could earn her degree in building construction at UF to complement her interior design degree from East Carolina University.

Once settled in Gainesville, Thompson’s dad suggested that he combine his love of fishing and photography to write fishing stories. Thompson then contacted the editor of Florida Sportsman and commissioned his first story for the magazine: “Fishing the W’s (Withlacoochee and Wacasassa).”

“We’re all a buncha liars,” he jokes, recalling conversations with Davidson where they would discuss the irony of the subjective nature of fishing and the fact he had been deemed an expert on it.

“I’ve written those two books that are 500 pages long each, but there’s people who consider it to be the Bible of fishing,” he laughs. “Ain’t true.”

Mostly retired, Thompson’s current project involves assembling 10 years of Florida Sportsman online “Big Bend Fishing4Cast” columns into book form. And he sold his boat – the one he said he bought for story fodder – and bought a Volkswagen.

“Two best days of a man’s life are when he buys the boat and when he sells the boat,” he said. I laugh, mainly because every person I know who owns a boat has repeated this phrase to me.

As we wrap up the interview, I ask Thompson what he would like his legacy to be.

Thompson acknowledges that while he hasn’t saved any lives in his line of work, he hopes he has made people value Florida’s wild side.

“I mean, I taught a lot of people to fish and to respect our state’s waters.”