Lynda Wiesmeier: Cause of death, Playboy career, movies

Lynda Wiesmeier was an actress who made a splash with a few notable films.

Yet, it’s a particular image of her that has gained attention in recent years, capturing something that feels like a glimpse into a bygone era…

Her journey began in Bitburg, Germany, where her father served as a doctor in the U.S. Air Force. The family moved around quite a bit before Lynda finally landed in sunny Los Angeles. She also spent some time in Bound Brook, New Jersey, where she became a regular sunbather at the Jersey shore.

Starring in zombie movie

Lynda loved working and keeping busy, balancing three careers: modeling, acting, and clerical work in a medical office.

In 1982, her beauty caught the eye of Playboy, and she was featured as the centerfold Playmate in their July issue. After becoming a Playmate, Lynda entered a whirlwind phase in her show business career, starring in films that showcased her stunning natural physique. She appeared in movies like Real Genius (1985), Teen Wolf (1985), Malibu Express (1985), and R.S.V.P. (1984).

Final movie

But it was her final film that might just be the one to put Lynda Wiesmeier on the map. In 1987, she was cast as Dianne in the zombie horror flick Evil Town.

The film starred none other than the legendary Dean Jagger, who took on the role of a mad scientist on a quest for eternal youth. His method? Synthesizing a drug from human pituitary fluid, of course. As he extracted the fluid, things took a turn for the worse — the process resulted in mindless zombies created from the unfortunate donors.

By an interesting twist of fate, Evil Town also featured Keith Hefner, the younger brother of Playboy founder Hugh Hefner. With both Lynda and Keith on board, the film had quite the Playboy connection.

The film was set to hit theaters on June 3, 1987, but excitement was so high that many theaters started showing it a day early, on June 2. However, despite the buzz, Evil Town didn’t quite live up to expectations.

Critics panned it, calling it a “silly horror film.” Cavett Binion of All Movie Guide pointed out that the movie was a mishmash of scenes from earlier films, including an unfinished project from the 1970s, and added that it was “spiced up with some gratuitous nudity courtesy of former Playboy Playmate Lynda Wiesmeier.” Ouch!

Luckily, Lynda Wiesmeier was destined for a bit of a comeback. Somehow, a particular scene from Evil Town has gone viral in the years since its release.

However, it’s not for the reasons some might assume.

Lynda Wiesmeier photo

In this memorable moment, Lynda shares the screen with the nearly unknown actor Scott Hunter.

At first glance, this looks like your classic 1980s snapshot. In front of a Dodge car, a young man and woman strike a pose, both rocking quintessential ’80s attire. But take a closer look, and you might uncover something unexpected!

The man sports dark shorts and a gray hoodie splashed with colorful motifs, while Lynda shows off high-waisted white shorts paired with a bright red top, artfully knotted at the waist. Short shorts were just the style back then, and Scott wore them with corduroy shirts, which everyone seemed to have.

Their retro outfits scream ’80s fashion, making it a delightful throwback to the era for many. And that’s exactly what has people falling in love with this image.

Fashion in the 1980s was big, bright and bold – and we embraced a mix of styles, including punk, glam rock, and preppy looks.

We could play with colors, hair, makeup and lots of plastic jewelry and other crazy accessories. And sometimes, all it takes is a simple image from a lesser-known film to transport us back to this fantastic era – thanks for that, Lynda and Scott.

Left the industry

After leaving the film industry, Lynda embraced family life, marrying and welcoming two wonderful children —a son and a daughter— from her first marriage.

According to Joyce’s Take, the family settled in Lafayette, Louisiana, where Lynda took on the role of records manager in a law office.

However, life took a turn, and after a divorce in 2004, Lynda packed her bags and headed to sunny California, ready to start anew. Even as she moved on, Lynda cherished her connection with her fans. She became a familiar face at various fan conventions, like Glamourcon, The Hollywood Collectors Show, and WonderCon, where she shared her stories and signed autographs.

Cause of death

Sadly, Lynda’s journey was cut short when she passed away at just 49 in December 2012, following a brave battle with a brain tumor.

It’s bittersweet to think about what she might have shared about her time in films like Evil Town — a charming piece of cinematic history that captures a different era.

But even in her absence, we can still celebrate Lynda’s legacy and the joy she brought to her fans. Share this article if you also miss the 80s!

Our Landlady Threw Us Out to Give the Upgraded Apartment to Her Sister — But Fate Quickly Taught Her a Harsh Lesson 5 days ago

It was like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I could barely speak, barely think. Chris, who had been listening in, immediately took the phone from me, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.

“Mrs. Johnson, there has to be another way,” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’ve put so much into this place. It’s our home.”

“I know, I know,” Mrs. Johnson replied, sounding genuinely sorry, “but Lisa’s family. She’s all I have left, and she’s in such a desperate situation… I can’t turn her away.”

What could we do? She’d made up her mind, and no amount of pleading was going to change that.

The next few weeks were a blur of packing boxes, canceled subscriptions, and trying not to break down every time I walked past a spot we’d lovingly restored.

The hardest part was leaving behind the memories we’d woven into every inch of that apartment—the late-night painting sessions, the laughter, the quiet moments of contentment.

Our new place was… well, it was a roof over our heads, and that was about all I could say for it.

It was smaller, darker, and lacked any of the charm that had made our old apartment so special. But Chris and I did what we always did—we made the best of it. We hung our pictures, arranged our furniture, and tried to pretend that everything was okay.

It wasn’t.

A few weeks after the move, I ran into Mrs. Patterson, one of our old neighbors, at the grocery store. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, but then she dropped a bombshell that left me reeling.

“Lisa’s been telling everyone how thrilled she is with the renovations in your old place. Said it was like moving into a brand-new apartment!”

My blood ran cold. Thrilled with the renovations? Wasn’t she supposed to be too distraught to care? Something didn’t add up, and I wasn’t about to let it slide.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing, replaying every conversation, every detail. There had to be more to this story, and I was determined to find out what it was.

Over the next few days, I started digging. I talked to a few other neighbors, asked some subtle questions, and pieced together a picture that made my blood boil.

Lisa hadn’t lost her job or her apartment. She’d manipulated Mrs. Johnson, using her sister’s kindness to get her hands on our beautifully renovated space. She hadn’t lifted a finger, but she’d swooped in and stolen the fruits of our hard work.

When I confronted Chris with what I’d found, he was furious—just as I’d expected.

We’d been used, betrayed by people we thought we could trust. Everything we’d built, everything we’d cherished, had been taken from us in the most underhanded way possible.

As we sat in our new, unremarkable living room, the weight of it all pressed down on us like a suffocating blanket. We were angry, yes, but more than that, we were heartbroken.

And it only got worse.

You ever hear something so downright ridiculous, that you just have to laugh? That was me and Chris when we first heard what Lisa had done to our old place.

I mean, you couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried. But there it was, delivered straight to us by the neighborhood’s most reliable source of gossip—Mrs. Thompson, who, bless her heart, couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.

We were at the grocery store, of all places, when we ran into her.

“Judith! Chris!” she said, her voice tinged with that mix of excitement and pity that only someone like her could pull off. “You’ll never believe what Lisa’s done with your old apartment!”

My stomach dropped. I’d been trying so hard to move on, to not think about that place, but here she was, ready to spill the latest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, though. It was like picking at a scab you know you should leave alone.

Chris, beside me, stiffened, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. He knew whatever was coming wouldn’t be good.

Mrs. Thompson leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s turned your beautiful kitchen into a metal workshop! Welding and all sorts of things, can you believe it?”

For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard her right. A metal workshop? In our kitchen?

Chris let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. He looked at me, his eyes dark with anger, but also something else—a strange, grim amusement. “Well, isn’t that just perfect?”

My mind was reeling, trying to picture the damage.

It was infuriating, but there was something almost… poetic about it, too. She wanted our place so badly, and now she was destroying it piece by piece.

Mrs. Thompson, bless her, was still talking. “Mrs. Johnson’s beside herself, poor thing. She tried to get Lisa to leave, but you know how family is. Lisa won’t budge.”

Later that night, Chris and I sat on the couch watching TV. We hadn’t said much since the grocery store, both of us lost in our thoughts. Finally, I broke the silence.

“Do you think she’s ruining it on purpose?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Who knows? Maybe she’s just that careless, or maybe she’s trying to wipe away any trace of us. Either way, it’s out of our hands now.”

I nodded, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

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