Florida town cherishes its commercial fishing heritage

Cortez, Fla., has an eclectic blend of residents. 

A local mystic known as RhondaK, who lives on a houseboat in Sarasota Bay, said: “Seabillies, water gypsies, saltwater cowboys, disciples of the net, artists, storytellers and musicians are all bonded to the ocean as deeply as the tides themselves…in Florida’s last working fishing village.” 

“Located at the north end of Sarasota Bay, a bridge away from Bradenton Beach, Cortez was settled in the 1880s by North Carolina fishermen (from Carteret County),” she said. They came for one reason – to fish for jumpin’ mullet. 

“Their story radiates from the docks of the Star Fish Company, a seafood market and dockside restaurant,” RhondaK said. “A starfish is not a helpless creature. As tenacious as generations of Cortezians, this echinoderm is powerful enough to cling to rocks in rough weather and changing tides.”

 

“A starfish can regenerate from fragments of itself. A wound can reform into a new arm, a new body and a new life.” 

That’s what has happened in Cortez. The fishermen’s world was turned upside down in 1995, when voters in Florida approved a gill net ban. It still hurts to talk about it in Cortez. 

Capt. Kathe Fannon, a fourth generation Cortezian, tells people: “I am a commercial fisherman by heart, and I’m a charter captain under duress.”

 

Travel writer Dennis Maley interviewed Capt. Fannon on the subject of the referendum. “The citizens in Florida voted on the fate of an industry (commercial fishing) they knew absolutely nothing about,” she said. “Florida is the largest sport fishing destination in the world...not just the United States…the world.” 

There was big money on the other side of the issue, and it was a nasty campaign to smear commercial fishermen, falsely accusing them of overfishing. 

J.B. Crawford, an author and Cortez commercial fisherman, wrote: “It was a brutal social conflict, hostile and dividing. The most bitter aspect was that commercial net fishermen mainly targeted mullet. The mullet is a vegetarian and does not bite a baited hook. The net ban protected fish not caught by hook and line, not targeted by sports fishermen.” 

Today, Capt. Fannon runs a charter service, providing ecotourism experiences for her customers. Her first mate is Pup-Pup, a male Cocker Spaniel who is constantly scouting for manatees and dolphins. 

After the net ban, most fishermen were forced to find other jobs. It’s not been easy for generations of men and women who grew up with “fishing in their blood.” 

Some turned to cast nets to catch mullet, others started shrimping, trapping blue crabs and stone crabs or longlining grouper. Others became dock builders or dredge operators. Some went inland to work. One man joined the county parks staff and is now raking Anna Maria Island’s beaches. 

In front of the Star Fish restaurant is a monument known as the Lost Fishermen. It honors 15 Cortez fishermen who have been lost at sea over the years. “A boat lost at sea touches people. Even the sinners pray,” RhondaK said.

 

For the past 41 years, the community has been hosting the two-day Cortez Commercial Fishing Festival on the third weekend of February to celebrate its “uniqueness and grit,” reported The Bradenton Times.

Proceeds benefit the Florida Institute for Saltwater Heritage (FISH), a non-profit organization whose mission is to restore and conserve the FISH Preserve, a 95-acre parcel of coastal habitat that borders the village on the north end of Sarasota Bay.

More faces of Cortez: