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Minuscule Miss Monterey starts the new year aright

Judi Monterey (now Judith Blain) was the Bunny’s top pick for their January, 1963 issue.

Judi grew up in Southern California, never venturing from between Long Beach and Santa Barbara.  When her issue was released, she had never travelled in a train, boat or airplane.

That dusty cliche about good things coming in small packages was given pleasant new life for PB editors on a trek to California when they were introduced to a petite brunette named Judi Monterey, an all-girl girl who stood just 5’1″ in her Capezios and whose weight rounded off at 100 pounds.

Pert Judi so impressed them with her potential that they asked her on the spot if she would help them start the new year of 1963 in style as their Miss January. Judi’s response, like her, was short and sweet: She said she’d be delighted.

A fun-loving peach who turned 19 that month, Judi had been ripening in the California sun all her life — born in Bell, she was raised in nearby Santa Barbara where she then lived, with roommate, in a newly constructed apartment building. Out on her own in the warm, affable world after graduating from Santa Barbara High, young Miss Monterey first tried working as a governess, lasted one unrewarding week (“I detest domesticity and kids,” she said firmly, then added, “at least for the time being”); she then found a more logical metier modeling for the local Brooks Institute of Photography.

A dedicated slugabed, she usually chose to snooze till noon in her white-walled bedroom, which was modernistically decorated with black ceramic plaques, black wrought-iron stands and one large red stuffed hound dog. Afternoons she customarily carried out modeling assignments, then strolled through Santa Barbara on long, lazy window-shopping sprees, or perhaps had an obliging male take her on a top-down sight-seeing spin through the countryside.

By nightfall, Miss January’s compact motor had been fully energized, and she was ready to be whisked away to dinner (filet mignon, heavy on the mushrooms), thence to a movie (preferably with Paul Newman or Frank Sinatra on the marquee) or the dog track (“The ones with the saddest eyes always win”), and if she could wangle it, a late-in-the-date scoop of banana ice cream.

On dateless nights she would scrunch up in a big leather chair to watch Casey or Dillon on TV, or catch up on her reading (at time of publication she was currently perusing two popular tomes: “The Carpetbaggers” and “The Fountainhead”), or earnestly putter with her two-year-old stamp collection while Sinatra or Buddy Greco crooned softly from her phonograph. Judi’s appealing aura of freshness and glowing health is abetted considerably by her pet luxury: Every day she indulges herself with long and fragrant bubble baths.

Though her suitable-for-framing frame (34-22-33) is admirably mature, Judi’s youthful visage caused many to underestimate her age, a tendency she claimed did not bother her a whit. Her chief gripe with mankind is those conceited members of the vigorous sex who assume they are irresistible. Judi was sold on the Golden State, proving her stay-put devotion by pointing out that she has never traveled anywhere by plane, train or boat.

“Why travel,” she asked, “when everything is right here?”, a rhetorical query of unassailable logic. She admitted to a warm regard for the big-band sound of Count Basie, liked old James Dean flicks, dancing, lobster, skating, and the kind of a man who reads Playboy. We are confident that attraction is mutual.

Judi Monterey is reputedly now known as Judith Blain, currently a keyboarding teacher at Manchester High School West, located in Manchester, New Hampshire

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