Becoming The Kettle Corn Man

This is the first article in a Vendor Profile Series intended to share the history and diversity of the Market through the stories of our vendors, as we celebrate our 25th Season. This article is written by journalist Barry Courter.

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Few things contribute to the sights, sounds and aromas of the Chattanooga Market more than The Kettle Corn Man. The booth is as iconic and as much a part of weekly gathering at First Horizon Pavilion as the images of ripe red tomatoes and strawberries, or the taste of a juicy peach picked just that morning.

It has been that way from almost the beginning, but it didn't start out like that for Pete Jones, The Kettle Corn Man.

This is my business and I try to run it the best I can. I try to make the customer happy no matter what. -- Pete Jones

A handyman by trade, Jones said he struck up a conversation with Jim Hornady back in 2006, and after talking for awhile Hornady, who started making kettle corn as a side gig in 2002, asked Jones if he'd be interested in helping him with his business.

“I said sure, just for the heck of it,” Jones said.

Around that same time, some other vendors convinced then-market owner/founder Nick Jessen to give Hornady and his corn a chance, and the business has not missed a Sunday at the market since.

“I've asked other vendors if they can remember a time when we weren't there and no one can,” Jones said. “If that's true, it's a perfect attendance record and the only one I've ever had or likely will ever have,” he said with a laugh.

After Hornady died in 2016, Jones continued working the booth for Hornady's wife and eventually bought the business, which included two custom-made kettles, a trailer and other equipment needed to pop the corn, in 2019.

“All along, Jim kept saying, 'This could be your business one day,' and I'd say, 'No, this is all yours.' I never really thought about owning it, but it's how things fell out I guess,” Jones said.

Jones pops an average of 75 pounds of seed every Sunday, he said. On slow days, he might pop 50 pounds, and on a really good day he'll pop 150 pounds.

His record for the number of 20-ounce bags of kettle corn sold is 600.

“That is a non-stop day where I stand by the kettle without a break,” he said. “It was non-pleasant I would have to say, but it was rewarding at the end of the day.”

Jones sells seven flavors of kettle corn, with the regular version being the most popular.

“The recipe is salt and sugar, but you have to get it right. You don't want it too salty or too sweet, and people don't realize that the weather can affect that drastically. You have to adjust it.”

Jones does that by hand-stirring the corn, which he says is also part of the show.

The aroma draws crowds to his booth, but Jones said people "like to watch it being stirred and popping up.”

Longtime market patrons will also remember a certain sound associated with the kettle corn while Hornady was alive and manning the kettle. He would bang on the kettle, a bit of showmanship that Jones no longer does.

“He would tell people he was 'jumping the corn' so it wouldn't stick to the bottom. I will not clarify whether it is true or false,” Jones said with a laugh.

He said one of his fondest memories associated with the noise happened when a woman came back to the booth and said, “You made a bang just a minute ago and it scared my husband.”

“Jim said, 'I'm sorry.'”

“She said, 'I'm not. I thought it was funny.'”

Jones said there is another sound associated with the kettle corn process that always draws people's attention. The noise of popping corn bounces off the pavilion's ceiling and sounds like rain.

“There is not a Sunday that goes by that we don't see someone look up and then look outside at the sky and get this funny look on their face. They think it's raining but the sky is blue.”

Jones said the market represents about 80 percent of his kettle corn business and about half of his customers are regulars. Another five to 10 percent have been visiting his booth since the beginning, he said.

Every so often, especially late into the season, Jones said his mind will wander and he'll try to picture not being at the market on a Sunday, “but then once the market is over, I miss it. I've gotten in such a habit of doing it. It grows on you."