What Happened To Bartles And Jaymes Wine Coolers

Remember that iconic, folksy duo, Frank and Ed? For anyone who came of age in the 1980s and early 90s, the casual jingle “Thank you for your support” was practically the soundtrack to summer. Their creation, Bartles & Jaymes Wine Coolers, wasn't just a drink; it was a cultural phenomenon. Then, almost as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished from the spotlight, leaving a generation wondering what happened to that perfectly sweet, fizzy nostalgia in a bottle.

To understand the rise, you have to understand the era. The 1980s were the golden age of the wine cooler, a category that exploded as a lighter, sweeter alternative to beer and hard liquor. Bartles & Jaymes, launched in 1985 by the E. & J. Gallo Winery, dominated the market with an incredible 70% share at its peak. It was the drink of pool parties, backyard barbecues, and the pre-game ritual for anyone who wanted a buzz without the bite.

The magic wasn't just in the taste—a blend of white wine, fruit juice, and carbonation—but in the marketing. The commercials were legendary, featuring two elderly, straight-faced gentlemen in overalls, Frank Bartles and Ed Jaymes, talking directly to the camera with deadpan sincerity. “We’ve got to do something about this wine cooler thing,” they’d say, making you feel like you were buying from your own quirky grandpas.

So, what killed the cooler king? The simple answer is the taxman. In 1991, a federal law changed the classification of wine coolers from “wine” to “distilled spirits,” slapping them with a much higher excise tax. A six-pack that cost $4.99 suddenly jumped to $7.99 or more, pricing out exactly the young, budget-conscious crowd that kept the brand alive.

But tax wasn't the only culprit. Consumer tastes evolved. The 90s ushered in the era of microbrews, craft beer, and later, the sophisticated cocktail revival. A sugary, 5% ABV wine cooler suddenly felt passé in a world demanding authenticity, hops, and mixology. Bartles & Jaymes became a punchline for “cheap” or “beginner” drinking, a relic of a simpler time.

Gallo tried to adapt. Throughout the late 90s and 2000s, they quietly reformulated the recipe, reducing sugar and adding new flavors like Strawberry Daiquiri and Mai Tai. They even attempted a “light” version. But the damage was done; the brand’s identity was too deeply tied to a specific decade. Distribution dwindled, shelf space shrank, and the iconic commercials stopped airing.

By the early 2010s, spotting a Bartles & Jaymes was like finding a vintage cassette tape. It still existed, but only in dusty corners of gas stations in the Midwest or rural areas. You’d ask for one and get a blank stare, followed by the suggestion of a White Claw. The brand had become a ghost, a memory whispered about by Gen Xers who missed “the good old days.”

Here’s a fun little fact: the actors who played Frank and Ed weren’t actually named Frank and Ed! David Ruffin and Dick Wilson (the real names) were professional actors who never even met during filming; their scenes were shot separately and edited together. Wilson, who played Ed, was actually a retired service station attendant, giving the character that perfect, unpolished authenticity.

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Another cultural relic: the jingle “Thank you for your support” was never actually sung by the actors. It was a studio singer, and the phrase became a national inside joke. You might hear it parodied in movies or by comedians, a shortcut to evoke that specific suburban 80s vibe. Some say you can still find a stray bottle in a forgotten cooler at a family reunion in Ohio.

Fast forward to today, and you can still buy them. Yes, truly. Bartles & Jaymes is still produced by Gallo, though its footprint is tiny. You’ll find it in 4-packs or single 40-ounce bottles, often in the same aisle as the Mad Dog 20/20. It’s the ultimate throwback choice, the drink you buy for the irony, then end up drinking three of because they’re actually still pretty tasty.

If you’re curious, here’s a practical tip: serve it ice-cold. No, colder than that. The sweetness is balanced best when it’s near frozen. Pour it over a glass full of ice with a lime wedge—a move that elevates it from “college mistake” to “retro delight.” It pairs surprisingly well with spicy tacos or a greasy burger.

The brand also inadvertently predicted the current “hard seltzer” boom. Both are low-alcohol, flavored, carbonated beverages designed for easy social drinking. In a way, Bartles & Jaymes were the great-grandparents of the White Claw and Truly empires. They just arrived a few decades too early, before branding had to be “wellness-focused.”

A third practical point: don’t buy the 40-ounce bottle. Stick to the 4-pack of 12-ounce bottles. The big bottle goes flat way too fast, and the classic proportion of juice to wine is better balanced in the smaller format. It’s also a perfect size for one long, nostalgic bath.

Classic 80s-Era Wine Coolers Bartles & Jaymes Are Making a Comeback - Maxim

You can find them on specialty sites like Drizly in select states, or at old-school liquor stores that have a vintage inventory section. The price is still remarkably cheap—usually under $6 for a pack. It’s a time machine ticket that costs less than a latte. One sip and you’re back in 1987, watching a VHS copy of Dirty Dancing.

As for the name itself: Frank Bartles and Ed Jaymes were fictional. The “Jaymes” spelling with a “y” was a deliberate choice to look more distinguished and less common. It worked. It made the brand feel like a small family operation, even though it was the product of the largest wine company in the world—a masterclass in gentle, folksy manipulation.

What happened to Bartles & Jaymes is really the story of changing rhythms. Trends crest, the tax code shifts, and our palates mature. The same thing happens to music, clothes, and even friendships. What was once essential becomes quaint. And that’s okay. It’s the natural cycle of cultural refreshment.

So the next time you see a dusty bottle of Bartles & Jaymes in a corner store, consider buying it. Not to get drunk, but to remember. It’s a liquid snapshot of a moment when simplicity was enough. Thank you for your support—of the past, of yourself, and of the idea that a drink can just be fun, without having to be sophisticated.

In a world of complex wine notes and hoppy IPA graphs, maybe we all need a little bit of that back-porch sweetness. Pour yourself a glass, put on a Guns N’ Roses album, and thank Frank and Ed for keeping the vibe easy. Some flavors never really vanish; they just wait for you to miss them.