Grandpa Vayo left this earth 30 years ago, and yet we’re still learning about his life.

Thanks to my cousin Stephen for passing this information along to his mom, who shared it with me. Some of Grandpa’s high school artwork is available online.

Grandpa was on the staff of The Oracle during 1916-17, his junior year at Bangor High School.

The Oracle, a monthly publication, included student-written literature, campus news, sports stories, editorials, alumni updates, and more.

Grandpa provided some of the banner artwork:

This drawing may need to become a family Christmas card!

The design of this next banner – Athletics – looks to be ahead of its time.

I love how Grandpa’s sense of whimsy played into his design:

Quelle surprise! The January 1917 edition includes this humorous story Grandpa wrote:

Matilda’s Execution

“Now remember,” quoth Ma Spudds for the forthy ’leventh time during the past half hour. “When you get to the party, above all things show yer bringing up. Don’t be skeared to talk, and show ’em thet you haint been a-takin’ them lessins in electricution a whole haff year fer nothin’.”

“Don’t cha’ worry ma,” came the reply from her dutiful daughter. “Why only yesterday my destructor told me thet my announciation was perfect and as fer my grammar, she sed it was simply superfluous.”

“I don’t doubt it a bit,” rejoined Ma. “I’ve noticed that m’self, and its suttinly wonderful the way you compress yerself. Fer instincts, only last evenin’ when the new minister called, and we wuz set down to eat, he suddenly turned ’round and ask’t you how you made that beautiful mince pie. Well, bless my soul! I thought most likely you’d go to work and tell ’im how we had to borry the mince-meat frum Widder Jones. But no siree – sure you didn’t do no sich thing. You told him how to make it jest as well as though you were a born manicurian, yerself.”

Such was the conversation that passed between Mrs. Zebby Spudds and her seventeen-year-old daughter who was hastily donning her Sunday best and making rapid preparations to attend the first grand party of her life.

Matilda, or just plain Tildy Spudds, was a tall, lanky, freckled-faced girl, red-haired, giggling and very prone to talk.

The party to which she was going was to be a surprise party for Miss Paulyne Bangs, the only daughter of the wealthy Squire Bangs, who owned the finest home in the village. It had been gotten up by several of Miss Bangs’ most intimate friends and they had decided as a novelty to invite every young person of the village, whether rich or poor, to attend.

The program for the evening was to consist of social time and a dinner after which each guest was to make a congratulatory speech to the hostess.

At length Tildy was ready to depart and slipping on a tight-fitting coat over her bright plaid dress, trimmed with wide black lace. She hastily kissed her mother and started.

Soon she found herself before the largest house in the village, the home of Miss Paulyne. Nervously she mounted the great stone steps and rang the bell. The door was opened by Miss Paulyne’s French maid. Now this maid, who had but recently arrived at the Bangs’ mansion, was a person of much interest to the villagers. Indeed she had produced such a sensation among them, that many of the young people had begun to regard the French language as a necessity of life.

“Boni joor,” greeted Matilda, who had studied French with a graphophone.

“No thank you,” returned the French maid, mistaking the gaudily dressed young lady before her for some sort of a foreign peddler, who was attempting to explain her wares. “I don’t believe we care for any today.”

“What be you talkin’ about!” exclaimed the startled Matilda, forgetting herself for the time being. “Nee compraney-vooz parz frances? I’ve been inverted to attend the fete of Miss Paulyne and if yer don’t mind I’d like to enter, seel vooz plate?”

So saying, she pushed her way past the dumbfounded maid, entered the spacious hall, took off her outside wraps, and seeing no hall rack upon which to place them, she hastily threw them over a marble bust of Miss Bangs’ grandfather, and made her entrance into the parlor.

She was greeted with a chorus of good evenings and for the first time she felt somewhat abashed by the sight of so many young ladies and gentlemen, and making a brief courtesy she rushed blindly to a chair beside a huge fireplace, where she sat as though petrified.

Soon, however, she collected her wits and began to gaze searchingly at the different guests, commenting to herself upon the dress of this one, and the features of that one until at last she reached a young gentleman sitting very near her.

This young man was of effeminate aspect, as still and straight as a stick, and wore a huge pair of tortoiseshell glasses.

“Where’d you git yer specs?” Matilda ventured.

“Pon mah word, young lady, how you stawtled me,” responded that individual addressed. “These glawses are the very latest thing, don’t cha know? They are known in awl high sawsiety arz the tawtaws shell spectawkles.”

“O-o-o-oh,” responded Miss Spudds. “I see,” and further conversation was cut off by the announcement of the hostess that they were to proceed to the dining room for dinner.

There was a grand flourish about the room. As fate would have it, Tildy and her spectacled friend were chosen to lead the procession.

Everything went smoothly until they were seated about the table and the time came to order from the menus, which were written in French. Then Miss Matilda Spudds was badly confused. For to tell the truth, outside of a few French phrases she knew nothing at all of the language.

But at length, the waiter arrived beside her, and Tildy, not willing to confess her ignorance, made a grand attempt.

“Give me some corn-soom in tassles” she ordered, “some pomes dee tears, some fillit dee beef, and some sparrows-grass.”

Many of the guests suppressed a smile, and her escort turn red, white and blue as he listened to the pronunciation of his partner, but none of this did Miss Matilda notice.

Finally the meal was over. The guests were called upon to give their speeches, and after making a profound bow, she began:

“Ladies and gints and Miss Paulyne, I hain’t never did a great deal of public tawkin’, but nevertheless I think p’raps I kin give you a few points on the value of execution, seeing as how I’ve been takin’ lessons in it fer the past six months, and ter tell the truth Miss Bangs I’d revise you ter take it up yerself.

“Execution is a great thing. It learns you how to speak before intelligent people and before ignorant people same’s I’m a-doin’. Fer instincts, take Abraham Lincoln, the gret president of the United States. If he hadn’t uv know’d more or less about execution, he couldn’t uv made so many of his famous champagne speeches. Yes, indeed, it has did a lot fer me, and ter be honest I’m jest as well versified in up ter date events as I am in past historical ones. Ahem. Thank you.”

This speech was greeted with a burst of applause and the now vain Tildy felt bigger than ever.

But all good things must have an end, and so did this joyous party. However, it was not until Miss Spudds was safe at home in her mother’s arms, that she exclaimed joyfully, “Oh, Ma, you’d orter been there! I certainly made my dee-but tonight, and I suttenly did show my bringing up.”

“I don’t doubt it a bit,” rejoined that fond parent, “not a bit, Tildy my darlin’.”

And with that they retired for the night. Ma, to dream of her daughter as a society belle, and Tildy to dream of banquets, parties, and last, but not least, her wonderful power of “Execution.”

… I can’t help but wonder if Grandpa had just read – or even seen a performance of – The Rivals. Tildy could sure give Mrs. Malaprop a run for her money!

My grandfather’s years at Bangor High School must have been such a nervous time.

When Grandpa wrote his lighthearted story, war was raging in Europe. Only a few months later, America entered World War One.

Here’s Grandpa in 1918. He’d entered the Student Army Training Corps program at Bates College that year. He was honorably discharged without having to serve overseas.

While at Bangor High School, Grandpa also sketched portraits of his fellow board members of The Oracle.

Here’s the publication’s masthead, just in case a descendant of one of his subjects might think they recognize their grandpa or grandma:

Grandpa went on to use his talents in advertising and as a lifelong hobby sketching and painting. Many of his descendants display his artwork in their homes.

There’s one more drawing young student Harold Vayo made for The Oracle, and it was the cover artwork for the October 1916 edition.

“Matilda’s Execution” © 1917 Harold E. Vayo Sr. All rights reserved.
Artwork © 1916 & 1917 Harold E. Vayo Sr. All rights reserved.

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