Bob Stevenson can tell you exactly when he first saw the light—or the lighthouses, at least. It was 15 years ago, and Bob and his wife, Melinda, stumbled on a tour of historic lighthouses on a daytrip to Southern Maryland. They were instantly impressed by the beauty, quaintness, and histories of the structures they saw. Bob was smitten. Thomas Point Lighthouse. Photo by Cindy Wallach Now 73, Stevenson, a retired corporate trainer, has emerged as the public persona of Thomas Point Shoal Lighthouse, the iconic, 142-year-old, cottage-style lighthouse that has become a symbol of Annapolis and the Bay. He promotes it at area schools and clubs, serves as its unofficial PR man, leads its docent program, and helps with maintenance and repairs. His work with the lighthouse began in 2005, when the structure, offered for sale by the Coast Guard, was taken over by a consortium that included the Chesapeake Chapter of the U.S. Lighthouse Society. The group was looking for volunteers, and Stevenson, who had tried various ventures after retiring in 2002, was interested enough to offer his services. “I’d sailed past the lighthouse frequently over the years, and I’d seen its picture in every ad in town,” Stevenson recalls. “So when the opportunity came up to get inside and work on renovating it, that was the grabber. I signed up immediately, and the more time I spent on it, the more I got hooked.” Stevenson didn’t lose any time pursuing his new interest. Drawing on his corporate skills, he researched the history and construction of the Thomas Point lighthouse, visited similar landmarks in other states, and organized a docent program. The Chesapeake Chapter already had begun renovating the place when the guided tours began in 2007 with Bob as a docent. One of his most stressful times was an incident in April 2016, when vandals broke into Thomas Point lighthouse and damaged much of the interior and the picket fencing on an outside deck. Repairs took more than a year to complete. Law-enforcement authorities still haven’t caught the perpetrators. Bob Stevenson. Photo by Cathy Lewis Given Stevenson’s public identification with the lighthouse and the time he spends as part of its maintenance crew, a reader might be forgiven for envisioning him as one of those stereotype lighthouse buffs who wears a khaki photographer’s vest covered with souvenir patches from dozens of lighthouses that he or she has visited. Indeed, Stevenson and his wife even live on Turkey Point Island in Mayo, Maryland, just three miles across the water from Thomas Point lighthouse. On a clear day, “I can see it from my window,” he says, with obvious delight. Not many lighthouse buffs can enjoy that kind of close-up view. But Stevenson, who maintains a broadly based empathy—and a dry sense of humor—about the widely differing habits of lighthouse habitués, insists that he doesn’t even own a photographer’s vest and doesn’t decide where to go on vacation by perusing a list of the lighthouses that he still hasn’t seen, as the most dedicated lighthouse fans seem to do. “I do not refer to myself as a lighthouse nut,” he says wryly. Stevenson has other interests besides Thomas Point. A lifelong sailor, who spent summers sailing with family friends, he and his wife have a small flotilla of recreational boats, including a 19-foot Flying Scot sailboat, a 14-foot Hobie Cat, two kayaks, and a canoe. And he maintains birdhouses for purple martins and osprey at their home. Photo by Cathy Lewis Nevertheless, Stevenson has “done” lighthouses along the entire Oregon Coast, a portion of Michigan, and much of Maryland, and he’s thinking about “going back”—still without a photographer’s vest—to others in Maine, Rhode Island, the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and California. Born in Baltimore, Stevenson attended Baltimore Polytechnic Institute and the McDonogh School in Owings Mills, and went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in psychology at the University of the South (Sewanee) in Tennessee. While in the Air Force, he earned a master’s in education from Troy State University, and then left the service for a career in business. Now on the board of the Chesapeake Chapter of the U.S. Lighthouse Society, Stevenson has added one more job to his list that some outsiders might consider a blast: he’s in charge of an electronic alarm unit that emits loud bird-scaring distress calls to discourage seagulls from damaging the lighthouse with droppings. It’s a tough job, but somebody had to do it. Stevenson invites PropTalk readers to join the Chesapeake Chapter of the U.S. Lighthouse Society (cheslights.org). Just tell them Bob sent you. They won’t have to ask his last name. About the author: Art Pine is a Coast Guard-licensed captain and a longtime sailor and powerboater on the Chesapeake Bay.