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From what I could research, the federal drinking age limit at this time was 18, though individual states were allowed to make it higher. I’m assuming by the tone of the letter, he’s underage in Colorado.  But hey, it’s 1967 so who cares, right?

Postmark August, 3rd 1967.  Denver, Colorado


Wed.  Noon.

Hi Honey,

I came home from dinner this noon and I’ve got a few minutes before I go back, so I thought I’d engage in one of my favorite pastimes – writing you.  Actually reading your letters is my favorite but this is second.


Hi Honey, I’m drunk.  But I placed my first god damned order tonight.  Then Mr. Evans and Jim and I went out and celebrated.  They’re great guys.  I may not be 21 but with them it doesn’t matter.  Mr. Evans said some things tonite that me feel pretty good.  He said he picked me to be on his crew because he always wanted the best crew in Denver and he’s the district manager so he got the pick of the bunch.  Besides that he paid for everything tonite.   Went to a bar called the Red Beret.  They got a negro piano player there that is just great.  Whenever he sees Mr. Evans come in there are three songs he plays no matter how many other requests he’s got.  I can’t remember the names but they’re good.  I’m gone to bed now but I want you to remember that I love you and am thinking of you all the time.  Mr. Evans asked me tonight (he was kind of toasted too) if I had a fiancé -(sp?) or any thing.  That got me started thinking of you even more.  Hope you miss me as much as I miss you.

Love you honey,

J.

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Jeff and Rita on her 17th Birthday

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