Who is Tom Fote ? He's One Of Us!

by Gary Caputi - Reprinted from th NJ Fisherman Magazine

(from Jersey Coast Anglers Association February 2001 Newsletter)

Tom Fote has been at the forefront of the fight to bring representation and fairness in fisheries management to recreational fishermen for nearly twenty years. He has been the driving force behind the Jersey Coast Anglers Association, a past president, and their full-time legislative chairman for the past ten years. You’ve seen his name regularly in the Fisherman and in newspapers. During his tenure as a commissioner on the ASMFC, he was responsible for opening what was a closed-door process to participation by all fishermen. He serves on numerous boards and commissions involved with protecting the marine environment where he is a coalition builder bringing environmentalists, commercial and recreational fishermen together to work on issues of mutual concern.

Still, with all this exposure, most fishermen have no idea who he is—no, not Tom Fote the activist, Tom Fote the man, the fisherman. Let’s clear up a few misconceptions first. Tom’s service to JCAA is strictly on a volunteer basis. He has no financial stake in fishing and he doesn’t sell fish. He approaches this work from the perspective of someone who grew up fishing the shoreline, rock piles and piers around Brooklyn. He has never forgotten the subsistence fishermen because he was one. He is not an elitist, but loves fly-fishing and is a longstanding member of the N.J. Saltwater Flyrodders. He’s been a member of the Berkley Striper Club since 1972 and the Fish Hawks since 1980.

Tom entered the service in 1966 as a private in the Army where he graduated from Engineer Officers Candidate School, Jump School and Special Forces training to become an officer in the Green Berets. He served in Viet Nam, where, as a Lieutenant with the 101^st Airborne, he led a platoon of combat engineers. He returned home severely wounded by artillery-fire and spent 18 months in hospitals undergoing operations and endured a long period of recuperation. He was retired with a pension as a result of his permanent disabilities in 1970 at the rank of Captain.

Tom returned to school earning a masters degree and, as soon as he was mobile, was back on the beach casting for striped bass, his great passion. Today, he lives with his wife and best friend, Lynda, a retired teacher with 27 years of service behind her and a blossoming new career teaching other teachers how to work with children with learning disabilities. Together they make quite the dynamic duo.

I’ve had the honor of knowing and working with Tom for close to 15 years, dating back to my tenure at The Fisherman in the 1980s. He would come by frequently stirring up support from the editor, publisher, anyone who would listen. He got me involved, which led to the vice presidency of JCAA and a seat on the Mid Atlantic Fishery Management Council, which, after six years, I still hold today. His enthusiasm has gotten a lot of people involved in fisheries issues, many of whom don’t know whether to thank him or curse him. It is a thankless, often frustrating environment in which to serve your fellow anglers and no one knows this better than Tom. But he just keeps going and going, like the Energizer Bunny, dealing with the criticism, often from anglers who are misinformed or ignorant, taking what satisfaction comes from making a difference.

Tom is a unique individual with a sense of duty and fair play that has grown increasing uncommon in today’s world. He has a deep and abiding love of sport fishing and the marine environment, but he’s really no different from you or I. Tom is foremost a fisherman. Walk into his garage, if you can squeeze in the door, and you will see all manner of gear collected over 35 years of fishing even though he rarely has time to participate because of the pressure-cooker schedule of meetings he subjects himself to. In one rack are surfcasting outfits that look 25 years old alongside brand new fly rods that have yet to see action. There are shark and tuna outfits that haven’t been near the ocean in a decade or more and cabinets and shelves filled with lures, hooks, materials for pouring bucktails, buckets full of rigs, waders, fly tying materials and more.

If you’re lucky, he’ll pull down the access stairs to the attic. Up there you’ll find more boxes full of tackle, much of which was new many years ago; some used, most not. There’s a pegboard rack filled with dozens of wood plug still in their original wrappers. It’s like stepping into a tackle shop in the 1970s.

Alongside the small house in Toms River were he has lived in since 1978 (only a few miles from Island Beach State Park), sits his 20-year old Ford pickup coated with a layer of rust where paint used to be. It still makes the trek to the beach looking for working birds, just not as much as it used to. Out back, floating in the lagoon behind the house, is a vintage 22’ Boston Whaler Outrage, which hasn’t been fishing more than twice in the past two years.

Still, get Tom on a boat or in the wash and his eyes light up. He handles a fly rod or swings a surf stick with the best of them. He navigates the old Ford through tricky sand with a practiced hand, his eyes always scanning up and down the beach for signs. But in recent years, he spends far more time talking to fellow anglers about current issues then about current fishing conditions.

One of Tom’s dreams is to see striped bass become no-sale game fish everywhere. He was instrumental in legislating it in New Jersey and is still working on it coast-wide. He believes recreational fishermen need at least one fish they can call their own and bank on to provide a quality fishery for years to come since commercial fishermen have numerous species they harvest exclusively.

While you might not know Tom personally, you know the work he does and we should count ourselves lucky to have him. People who care so deeply and work with such devotion are hard to come by at any price. If you should happen to see him on the beach, or more likely, at a fisheries meeting of some kind, say hello and, maybe, thanks. It’s not much and, Lord knows, Tom certainly doesn’t expect or seek recognition, but I know I appreciate him every day. And while he’s a special person, he’s also a fellow fisherman. He’s one of us.

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