PARADISE FOUND- Tales from a Fourth Generation Floridian

My name is Corey Hubbard and I hail from a white sand beach, in a free and prosperous country, in a state with no income tax.

My forefathers had the guts and the gall to relocate to the Gulf Beaches when they were desolate strips of sand inhabited by only the daring and the dangerous.

My grandfather, Wilson Hubbard, was born in Memphis, Tennessee, and spent his childhood in a traveling circus, selling tickets to a freak show. Then he woke up in Florida, went to war, came home, and started entertaining tourists. Quite a natural progression.

Young Wilson first dropped a fishing line in the warm waters of the Bay Area from inside a rowboat, attached to a cane pole. A natural salesman, his cheeky charm and encyclopedic knowledge danced into televisions and radios with the words, “If you’re too busy to go fishing, you’re just too busy!” And with that, the Hubbard name became synonymous with fishing… and most importantly, catching.

In 1976, Wilson moved the fishing operation from Hubbard’s Pier in Pass-a-Grille up to John’s Pass in Madeira Beach. It was then that Hubbard’s Marina began to occupy a central role in the Gulf Beach’s tourism community.

After Wilson died, my father, Mark Hubbard, distilled our colorful family lineage into a business hell bent on showing people a good time… in whatever way he could conjure and cavort. He, too, was bitten by the tourism bug and has devoted his time, his money, and his legacy in the pursuit of sun-kissed, salt-laced, and fish-focused excellence. Quite a natural progression.

My brother Dylan is the rubber-stamped mutant offspring of my father and clone of grandpa, with a penchant for hard work and savvy communication. In the coming years, he is poised to assume control of Hubbard’s Marina and her various offerings, alongside his beautiful, supportive wife. Quite a natural progression. I learned early that life had afforded me vast opulence. After a lethal combination of a worldly university education, a distant career path, and an appetite for adventure, my eyes were averted on a decade-long sojourn away from my roots. I walked out of Florida and into homes around the globe. Having been embraced by people of every color and creed, I absorbed the immense value of culture and history. After years on the road, inside 20+ countries, I’ve come full circle and finally came home. Home is more than a structure or a city.

It is a story… mine, and maybe yours too is nestled between these pages. It is tourism. It is the beaches. It is palm trees, fish on strings, pink castles, and sandy things. Paradise, found.

Today, I am profoundly privileged to inhabit a stately home purchased by my grandparents more than 60 years ago. I entertain in a kitchen where my great grandmother cooked. I rest between walls where my grandmother and grandfather built a family and a legacy. I walk to the beach where my father played, and I stand on shaggy carpet where he knelt and proposed marriage to my mother. Quite a natural progression.

As a member of the fourth generation of my family to live, work, and play in Tampa Bay, I was born and raised on beaches and boats. I’ve had a front row seat to the vibrant growth of business, community, and tourism. Having spent my youth selling tickets, telling tales, and making tourists happy, I like to think I have grown into a community-oriented entrepreneur. I get to traipse all over Pinellas County waving the Hubbard flag of innovation and entertainment. Quite a natural progression.

Despite suffering hurricanes, oil spills, recession, and tragedy, somehow our community is still kicking. I hope you’ll kick alongside me as I hearken back to our roots and celebrate them as hallowed days, nights, pasts, and futures. Sort of an unnatural progression but, what is Florida if not for shattering norms, shocking the world and attracting new residents all the same?

Whether you fancy a trip out on the water, a beach holiday, or just some local lore, you have come to the right pages…. with just the right people. Stay tuned for misty-eyed fables, onshore and offshore secrets, historic ports of call, mysterious islands, and the history of waterborne vessels that have moved us to and fro. And always remember, “If you’re too busy to go fishing, you’re just too busy!” PN

Article by Corey Hubbard

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