Pass the Kornbread?

Published February 5, 2008
One Comment (at bottom of article)

By Andrew L. DeTullio
Illustration by Aaron Lopez-Barrantes

Burlington, for its relatively small size, has a certain orchestral hum that is usually reserved for larger urban areas. Along with the occasional sirens and the mechanical drone of vehicle traffic, there is also a lot of foot traffic along the residential streets that some have dubbed “the college ghetto.” These streets, lined with decaying Victorians sadly sliced up into apartments, house a good portion of the upper classmen population at UVM. At any given time along these narrow avenues, there is the opportunity to hear drunken babble
on weekend nights, the mumbles and outbursts of Can Bums rattling their shopping carts by as they speak Bum Gibberish (a mixture of pop culture and politics) or even the subdued conversations of the townies and their families. But one key sonic element has been considerably missing in this sound-scape, one that was once an integral yet rare force. It didn’t matter what time of day, but there was always the possibility to hear the yells and rhymes of one mysterious man: Kornbread.

Wearing multiple guises from a matching Cincinnati Bengal’s warm-up suit to a tuxedo, this large black man could be seen walking (walking is an understatement, but rather slowly charging) up the cracked sidewalks of Burlington spitting freestyles to an inaudible beat. Always alone, he seemed standoffish even reclusive. He would presumably come out of nowhere only to swagger by leaving behind him his current feelings in the form of rhymes.

“Who is this man?” “Where did he come from, he wasn’t always here, was he?” These were all questions witnesses, fellow stalkers and walkers of Burlington’s streets, would ask themselves or their companions regarding this strange figure.

Depending on whom you ask, Kornbread sightings began in late 2005. He began showing up on various parts of campus, in random areas downtown. He seemed to know no boundaries and could show up anywhere, only to trample by as quickly as he had come. He was usually heard before he was seen, and his 6′7ft stature seemed to stick out in this homogeneous landscape. One reason was his physical appearance; in a town and at a college not necessarily known for its racial diversity he became an extremely visible figure. While he looked out of place considering his surroundings, he seemed to perfectly embody a very fitting image. He certainly looked like a rapper. His verses at times could be geniusly crafted (I got bail money/ Lawyer money/ Tom Sawyer money) and he even functioned as his own erratic hype-man (he was seen yelling at a student wearing Ecko gear to, “REP YOUR BLOCK, REP YOUR BLOCK”).

As time passed and reports of his sightings spread across the student body, he began to achieve mythic status. Like anyone placed upon this pedestal, rumors about him swirled. Some had said, “I heard he smokes crack.” While others questioned his origins, “I think he’s from Ohio.” A few even tried to document his past, “he’s done time.” This was mainly hearsay, and most often was completely outlandish and unbelievable. But as the stories mounted the legend only grew. Eventually, people even got close to Kornbread, establishing friendships and becoming acquaintances-destroying the notion of his coldness.

Early last year, he teamed up with another one of Burlington’s widely known eccentric characters, Andrew Benoit, then a Junior at UVM. Benoit seemed like a perfect fit to “manage” Kornbread’s budding hip-hop career. Tall, loud, well known, and connected, Benoit garnered comparisons to the white Don King. He set out to create a publicly friendly version of Kornbread, while harnessing and focusing ‘Bread’s energy towards his music. After a successful concert at Billing’s Hall, a five song EP and a string of Youtube videos, everything was looking up for Burlington’s fastest rising rapper. That is until he all but dropped off the radar in Burlington. He was seen less and less around town, and the rumors once again began to circulate.

Some thought he was held up in the recording studio, creating the album that would be the spark to Burlington’s burgeoning hip-hop scene. Others took a more cynical approach and said he had to be serving time on drug charges.

The latter was the more prominent and strangely more believable rumor regarding Kornbread’s disappearance, but he was still occasionally seen over the summer of 2007, which all but dispelled the incarceration rumor. One of the last times he was seen was on a rainy night in late August, running down Buell St. in the wee hours of the morning wearing his tuxedo and shouting that “MY PARENTS NEVER BOUGHT ME A CAR.” Then it was silent; Burlington had appeared to return to a calm state, unfortunately lacking the iconic figure who seemed to stand in vast constrast to the rest of the local community.

So where is Kornbread? Whenever his name is now mentioned the same reaction occurs: “I was just thinking about how I haven’t seen him in awhile, where’s he been?” Finally, his name is known in almost every dorm room and tenement-like apartment but he hasn’t been able to embrace the fame. When recently asked about Kornbread’s whereabouts, Andrew Benoit, in his booming voice replied, “Yeah, he’s in prison, doing 3-5 for something. Not even his family can talk to him.”

While the validity of the details of his statement is questionable, it reveales one fact that has since been confirmed: he’s behind bars. Another student with a friend close to ‘Bread confirmed the statement and further added, “I heard he’s in prison in Connecticut.” Whatever state he may be serving his time in, it means one thing: he’s off the streets of Burlington, not spreading love and raps for his common man, woman and child. But the mystique of this man has left an imprint on the residents of Burlington, one that will only add to his legend. A legend that will hopefully be passed down from underclassmen to underclassmen until whenever it is that he gets out of prison.

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