

Cyndi Wood, Playmate of the Month February 1973, pictured in digital images from the pictorial, Pinups, December 1973. Only the top photo was used in the pictorial.







Jill De Vries, Playmate of the Month October 1975, pictured in Playmate of the Month pictorial, Country Girl. The text accompanying the photos read:
As far as October Playmate Jill De Vries is concerned, big cities are strictly for the birds. A country girl born and raised in the hinterlands of Illinois, she has no use for crowds and skyscrapers, smog and subways. “Cities are just too busy, too hectic,” she says. “People are so involved in their own little worlds. And cityfolk always look so darn sullen and unhappy. Who needs it?” Not Jill, who has carved out an idyllic life for herself in a tiny farm community ten miles or so outside Bloomington, Illinois. Though she lives in a farmhouse, surrounded by 14 acres of hay and no visible neighbors, she spends most of her days either working in Bloomington as manager of her boyfriend’s shop, The Joint General Store, which deals mainly in water beds, boots and American Indian jewelry, or just lazily swimming in a nearby lake with her guy’s Labrador retriever, whose name, incidentally, is Karl Marx (“My boyfriend is a political-science major,” Jill explains). Once in a great while, she will go to Chicago on a shopping trip to buy merchandise for the store, but the experience always leaves her somewhat frazzled and jumpy. “I just can’t handle big-city life,” she says. “Not even for one afternoon.” And it’s no wonder. Of Dutch stock, Jill grew up in Wichert, Illinois (“a little-bitty Dutch community”), and spent much of her early youth helping her father grow tulips and gladioli. In fourth grade, she became a cheerleader, an extracurricular activity that lasted eight years, and took piano lessons, which lasted 11. Today, although somewhat out of practice, she can still play a Chopin nocturne with admirable proficiency. “For a long time,” she recalls, “I wanted to be a concert pianist – I was really quite serious about it, in fact. But my music teacher convinced me that it was really a rough life, and by the time college rolled around, I’d given up the idea.” By then, she’d also given up cheerleading, because, as she says, “I realized how dumb it really was.” Starting out at Illinois State, she wandered into the field of education, eventually majored in the subject and decided to teach kindergarten. Why kindergarten? “Because little children are so much fun to be with,” she says. With college more or less behind her (she still needs a few student-teaching credits) and teaching positions being scarce, her future is in limbo. But Jill isn’t worried – she’s too easygoing for that. In the meantime, she’s been doing some modeling (our June layout on Dads and Grads featured her as one of the girls popping out of a gift-wrapped box) and growing gladioli in her back yard. Jill says “I try to live for the moment and not worry about the future.” We’re not worried about your future, either, Jill.








Pamela Jean Bryant, Playmate of the Month April 1978, pictured in Playmate of the Month pictorial, Cutting Loose. The text accompanying the photos read:
Those of you with eagle eyes and elephant memories will recognize Pamela Jean Bryant as one of the coeds featured in our September 1977 pictorial Girls of the Big Ten. She almost didn’t make it: The story of how Miss April came to our attention demonstrates the old adage that some days you can eat the bear and some days the bear eats you. Relates Pamela: “I have never regarded myself as particularly beautiful. I didn’t think anyone else did either. Only a few days before Playboy photographer David Chan showed up on the campus of Indiana University I had applied for a modeling job in a local fashion show and had been turned down. But I refuse to let setbacks get to me, so I responded to the ad David had put in the student newspaper, asking for girls to try out for a Girls of the Big Ten feature. I was surprised when, during our interview, he suggested that I was Playmate material.”
Over the next few months, as we became better acquainted with Pamela, we grew to respect her resilience and self-determination. “I’ve always been an optimist,” she says. “I never give in to other people’s opinions. I had a rather mixed-up childhood, shuttled from one foster home to another. I had seven mothers and seven fathers, and all of them told me my faults, my guilts, their idea of who I was. I’ve been told I’m lost and lonely by lost and lonely people. I’ve stopped listening to others and started listening to myself. I’m proud of the dent I’ve made in the world to date. I’m glad that I am young and have a career to look forward to. I’m going to strut my stuff and get by on the good times I give myself.”
At the end of her freshmen year, Pamela decided she could learn more about herself outside school. She packed as many of her belongings as would fit into a station wagon and set out for Florida. (“I had to leave behind my collection of stuffed animals, one from each foster home.”) She found a place to live in Palm Beach and, under the tutelage of a screenwriter friend, has begun piecing together her own life story. “I get up every morning and sit at the typewriter for two hours. I’m reliving my childhood and creating a new person.”
The screenwriter connection has opened a new career for Pam. She has hooked small parts in films. “I’m strong-minded but very open. My emotions are very much on the surface. That’s why I know I’ll make a good actress someday.” With that kind of attitude, we know tomorrow is bound to be a day Pam eats the bear.