Peter Leibert's Page

By the time I reached Riverside Poly High, I had grown much more interested in stagecraft and the related dramatic arts. To be or not to be, that was the question. Girls had temporarily disappeared from my arena of interest and most of my performances on the stage started off by being hidden away within class projects.

I selected ROTC instead of continuing to pursue my somewhat faltering “athletic career”. The quarterback didn’t ever get the ball far enough out to reach me; the pitchers just couldn’t hit the end of my bat. The guys that were running track just - well they just ran faster. Through this ROTC program I was able to shoot a rifle for the first time, and soon I discovered that I was pretty good at it.

During my high school years, I quite often selected the subjects of math, chemistry, physics and Spanish as my “optional” courses. Of course, you did not have many more selections available to you since English (of some sort), and Civics (of some other sort), and physical education (or ROTC) were always required. I would have to sneak in a course related to drama and stagecraft whenever I could.

Each high school student had to take 7 one-hour classes - every day. From what I understand about today’s schools, it must be half that - if you actually believe what is written in today’s newspapers. When I was in high school, I took three years of Spanish from the same instructor and I still CAN NOT converse in that language.

I can read some Spanish, but I think I got off to a wrong start because my instructor was from Spain. Spanish spoken in Mexico was reportedly quite different. Perhaps the reason I took so much Spanish was that those classes contained a lot of Spanish senoritas. Naw, naw. That could not ever be the reason.

But whatever, these writings are not being written to tell you everything I did during those days. I have made the choice to only address the items that I think are the highlights that occurred during this part of my life - the types of things I still remember over 50 years later. If I do not remember it, it must not have been a highlight.

Chemistry seemed to be one of my classes. Every kid that took chemistry would remember that there were unique things you had access to during those classes. Chemistry students would have memories of taking a few crystals of Iron Sulfide (FeS) and putting them into some sort of container and then pouring the liquid Hydrochloric Acid (HCl) over the FeS crystals. You would soon have a chemical reaction which resulted in obtaining Iron Chloride and the gas Hydrogen Sulfide. Even today the odor of Hydrogen Sulfide is known as ‘rotten eggs”.

You probably also would remember coming up with some way to expose that gas to a large group of people, like maybe all the people in the visitors section during a basketball game. The chemical reaction seemed to always work best within a high school gymnasium enclosure.

The Iron Sulfide experiment that you remember probably occurred during the early part of your first year in high school.

There are a whole series of courses that fall under the umbrella of being called mathematics. A common distinction of these math classes is that they had a lot of “problems” at the end of each chapter which the instructor had been trained to use for keeping you busy outside of class. If I remember correctly, you would always be assigned ten of these problems to be completed before the next days class.

Your teacher would often show the students how easy these problems were by going over one of them during the regular class session. But late at night - home alone - there was no way that a math problem was ever easy. In self defense, a conscientious student would soon identify a tutor to assist him with his homework. During my Plane Geometry class, she was Colleen Olander, who sat behind me in that class. By the time that I had graduated to Solid Geometry, I was consulting with Kathy Potter. She was an older woman - a senior - but Kathy always had her homework completed before I even started mine.

A side benefit of working with a tutor was that it would help you with your telephone and social skills. During the evening, when you suddenly remembered your math homework, you would gather up your books and stuff and go over to Grandma’s house in order to use her phone and consult with your tutor of choice. Why Grandma’s house? Because we didn’t have any phone in our house until long after I was out of high school.

Grandma’s phone was mounted on the wall in her living room. This is also where Grandma and my aunt Helen would be sitting reading a book or otherwise passing their time. I was sure that they were listening to my every word when I was using their phone. This tended to put a crimp on any real social conversation with your tutor. Actually this arm’s length approach to my social interaction with people of the opposite sex worked pretty good for a shy guy like me, until - -

I also had had an English class tutor - well, I should really call her a fellow English student as she was never of any help to me with my English class homework. Anyway out of the blue one day, she asked me if I would take her to the upcoming Hi-Tri dance. Whoo, wait a minute. This is getting a little too serious. I stammered and stuttered and finally came up some excuse of being busy that weekend and hung up. I wasn’t ready for dating yet, not going to dances with girls anyway.

One of the high school electives that I signed up for was a class in Drama. The motivation for doing that came out of Junior High. There was an “after school club” program at Chemawa Junior High and I had gotten involved with the Stagecraft Club during that time. A side benefit of being in the Stagecraft Club was that we got to open and close the curtain during assemblies, turn on and off the lights, and other brilliant things. Chester Hess was our advisor there.

The drama class did not turn out to be exactly what I expected. We were studying types of plays, reading certain plays and things like that. We did do a few demonstration skits where two or three students would be called on to read parts. One of the activities involved researching a current play and making an oral report concerning what it was all about. When the class was doing the orals, I was one of those who was never ready to make their report. Our teacher finally offered those who had not made their report one last chance - after class on Friday. So I quickly did my homework and scrambled to get ready.

When called upon that Friday, I got up and made a pretty oral report, even if I do say so myself. I gave them some background about the various productions of this wonderful musical that Ziefield and White had produced on the Broadway stage during the 1911 through 1939 timeframe. I told them about this production being the major opportunity that made Alice Faye, Ann Miller, Ann Pennington, Eleanor Powell, Ray Bolger and Rudy Vallee. There was even a movie (1934) that starred Alice Faye, Jimmy Durante, and Rudy Vallee.

My teacher also must have thought it was a good report as she told me and the dozen or so other delinquent students. “That was quite well done, Pete. There is one comment I would like to make,” she said. “I believe the name of the musical is actually ’The George White Scandals’, not ’The George White Sandals’.” That entire audience broke into hysterical laughter. I even smiled - a little - as I stood there in front of those fellow class members and slowly turned beet red, realizing that I might have made an error. For the rest of the quarter, I specialized in doing comedy skits - no more song and dance.

Working behind the scenes with stagecraft was a very stimulating experience. Lighting was so easy to set and the results were amazing. Set construction, under the guidance of my instructor Chester Hess, was also educational. Chet had “graduated” as an instructor into high school the same year I did as a student. He had been one of my instructors in Chemawa Junior High and had many great ideas about how to construct and paint very lightweight, realistic, great looking sets. We would have six or eight completely different scenes up in the theater stage rafters waiting to be dropped and put into place within minutes. It even amazed me.

I took a “class” in stagecraft each quarter during my entire high school. I always got an “A” probably because I attended every class, was a willing participant, did reasonably good work, and volunteered for all kinds of extra activities. These included working on the set design and set construction, supporting rehearsals and performances, and even getting involved in outside - non school - programs. Those easy A’s never got me on the school Honor Roll.

You must know that when you are a member of the stage crew, in a supporting role, you would sometimes get little twangs of a desire to be one of those stars out there. Once in a great while I would think about doing a reading, or otherwise volunteer to play a supporting role. I did try out once, but they did not selected me to play Teddy Roosevelt Brewster in Arsenic and Old Lace. They gave me, instead, the part of Sergeant Klein. That actually led me into playing my most impressive role. You did want me to tell you all about how Sergeant Brophy and Sergeant Klein took over the De Anza Theater and arrested the crooks who were watching the movie.

My senior year is when I broke free from the shadows with my outstanding performance as “The Sergeant” in that serious dramatic, yet comical play — Arsenic and Old Lace. Even today, I am sure, you can visualize our star of the show Theodore Roosevelt charging up those stairs of “San Juan Hill”.

That performance gave the cohort policemen, Sergeant Brophy (Bill Mackey) and Sergeant Klein (Pete Leibert) the opportunity to wander, in full New York police uniform, up and down the aisles of the De Anza Theater looking every bit the part of police on the prowl. We knew the De Anza manager.

We must have really been convincing because during that process six or seven guys dashed out the back doors of the theater. What does that have to do with Arsenic and Old Lace. Well, it was a memorable experience.

During my senior year, I met another first “real love”. It was a very memorable experience as well. All of this occurred after I had been exposed to a very interesting process. I would get these sublimely suggestions from other girls that I should ask this specific girl for a date. Did this ever happen to you?

Our first date eventually occurred and we got along really great, not only on that first date, but we had numerous follow-on adventures. The two of us did have a lot of similar interests and really got along swell. In fact, we went steady until I graduated from high school.

This romance must have begun within the theater setting as Joan Marvin had been one of the female leads during the Arsenic and Old Lace production during my senior year. She was a sophomore then. I was a mighty senior. As part of our common interest in the theater and the commonality of the people we were friends with, it actually was a natural romance.

Without any doubt, the most elaborate set that we built during my theater stagecraft experience was the exterior setting for the house used for “Smiling Through”. Not only was the set huge by normal standards but we had to lift that set into the rafters twice during the performance to make way for other scenes. The main set filled the entire stage and was made of one framework covered with muslin and painted to look like the outside of a stucco house. And it really looked REAL including the fireplace.

In case you are not familiar with this drama, it is about this Irish girl who falls in love with her grandfather’s bitterest enemy by the time the play ends. It was proof that true love would come “Smiling Through”. Yes, it left the audience in tears.

When most people get to high school, it is not long before you are of the age when you can obtain your driver’s license. Because I was a farm boy, I had been able to get this important piece of paper when I was 15 and a half - during early May or June of 1944. That meant that I could legally do what I had been already doing on the farm since I was 11 or 12. On the farm it was usually a truck or a tractor that I had to drive.

When I started high school in the fall of 1944, I already had my driver’s license. So did my buddy and neighbor, Richard Barney. Neither of us had our own car, but for special occasions, Barney could get his mother to let him take her 1937 four-door Ford sedan.

We were going to go to a school football game over in Ontario one night. Barney was driving. We were on Mission Boulevard in the Rubidoux area which during those days was a narrow two-lane road surrounded on both sides with trees. Traffic in our direction was quite heavy and going too slow for Barney’s liking so he started passing the string of cars and kept passing and kept passing. Up ahead here comes this car heading right toward us. The car kept coming and we kept going and he kept coming. At the last moment, Barney swerved to the left side of the road and barely misses hitting that car head on. Horns were blaring.

Following this, there was some discussion about who should drive the car the rest of that night and finally Barney agreed to let me drive. So I and another buddy got in the front seat, and Barney and John Golden got in the back. We start out again and was driving down the road. Barney and Golden now started wrestling with one another in the back seat for some reason. The next thing I know the left back door opens and swings out and bangs up against the side of the car.

Now look at that car pictured down below. This model is much like the Barney 1937 Ford sedan except the Barney car was totally black. Please notice the rear door. What happens when you open that door at a time when you are driving down the road doing over 50 miles per hour? Well let me tell you. The door opens all the way and often bends the hinges until the door hits the rear fender. That is what happened that evening. Need I point out to you that Richard Barney was not allowed to drive his mother’s car for at least three months.

I don’t want to mislead you and infer that I was personally a Mr. Goody. Once in a while I would do some unusual things myself. Like the time I was leaving home and drove across a little puddle of water in the field next door. I had to borrow our neighbors tractor in order to get the car out of the mud.

Then there was the time when I conducted a scientific road test and determined that a 1942 Oldsmobile could exceed 100 miles per hour on a flat road and at that speed did not exhibit any front-end vibration. Great findings!

During 1946, there were a number of people who were attempting to set a new world’s record for the hydroplane at the Salton Sea. Guy Lombardo had just purchased a famous boat MY SIN which had won a number of races during the prewar period. Guy renamed the boat TEMPO VI and headed for the Salton Sea to see if he could set a new record. Being a person that was interested in music, the arts, and hydroplanes, I gathered some friends together and we headed down there hoping to witness those trials.

That year, the TEMPO VI raised the supercharged Gold Cup Class straightaway record to better than 113 miles per hour. This was the fastest speed ever recorded by a 732 cubic inch “G” boat of pre-World War II specifications.

In October during the same year, the TEMPO VI ran its fabulous 1946 Gold Cup at Detroit. By that time, the limitations for inboard piston engines had been abolished and virtually all hull restrictions had been abandoned. Lombardo chose to stay with the same engine and boat set-up that had worked so well before. That strategy worked and his TEMPO VI broke the long-standing Gold Cup heat record with a mark of 70.89 for the 30-mile distance. That was sweet music to my ears.

During each of my three years in high school, I selected to take Reserved Officers Training Corp classes (ROTC) instead of physical education. This means that instead of playing and having games every day, you get to march up and down the football field, learn how to shine your shoes, your buttons and buckles real pretty, and other important skills.

We did do a lot of marching, but it was actually practice to make us look good. We had our own ROTC band and when we were in a parade, we did look quite sharp and the band sounded very good. There was a lot of study that was involved. I learned a lot about reading maps and worked on developing strategies for different military activities.

Probably the most interesting and exciting component of this entire program was the shooting part. We first had to learn the specific “correct” method for disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling your weapon, but once that was mastered, you got to practice using the rifles that you had grown to love. In other words, you got to shoot real live bullets at a target range. Actually I got pretty good with the rifle.

There were other activities that I recall. They annually had a military ball, we did have a promotion scheme where you got to wear and show off your stripes. I never made officer, but in my senior year, I was Staff Sergeant. Mom thought it was a great deal because I had to wear the government provided uniforms. Of course in those days, the uniform had to be washed and IRONED.

One little embarrassing item I remember about my ROTC experiences. I had been requested to be one of the Easter Services security guides on Mt. Rubidoux. I was supposed to be there at 2am. Yes, I slept in. The military shoots you for that, don’t they?

One of the outside activities that stagecraft got me involved with was the Riverside Light Opera Association. During my high school years, this group produced two or three operas held in the Mission Inn each year. The room where all this happened was called the music room, but it certainly was not a music room, nor a theater, by 20th century standards, nor 19th century standards. It was a long fancy room which contained a variety of odd seating-type furnishings, which, like much of the Mission Inn furniture, was very old and had been obtained from foreign countries.

The stage was - well, it was not much. As to being used in a theater mode, the stage was rather narrow, had no curtain, only had a few oddball light fixtures, did not have an easy way to get on or off the stage, and in general was a setting that was impossible to utilize. Did I forget to mention, the Opera Association did not possess their own microphones, amplifiers or speakers? But the room was free, if they needed something, they borrowed it, and the workers and performers all were volunteers.

A gal by the name of Marcella Craft was the key person that kept things going. She selected the operas, selected the performers, gave the orders, and otherwise kept the operation moving. She was an older gal (probably about 45 or 50), but had a lot of energy, two solutions for every problem, and ready answers for everything.

I got involved because Chester Hess asked me to, and once a volunteer on Marcella’s list, you are always a volunteer with the Opera Association. I worked the stage most of the time, but once in a while I would get assigned to be a stage prop - you know, get all dressed up in some costume and just stand there on stage, or walk on and off, or something. Never had a singing part, that I remember.

One of the operas we did that I do remember was La Traviata - in English, of course. You know the story. Guy meets girl, they fall in love, there is jealous boyfriend. The father of the guy didn’t like the girl, wants her to leave, and she gets sick. Lots of pretty good songs are sung, but the girl still dies, and all the women in the audience leave crying.

In those days, I still considered that I could might become a great soloist. I always visualized myself singing the lead male part and getting the girl. I did have a walk-on part in La Traviata, but they wouldn’t let me sing. This was typical of my opera career.

When I was a junior and a senior, I worked as a ticket seller, ticket taker and a few other jobs for each of the home football and basketball games, and a few track meets - for each home event of the high school and the junior college, plus any other special events that required ticket sellers or takers. I actually had an inside track to obtaining one of those jobs because my brother John was the big boss (second in command to some school employee) during those years - he was the Stadium Manager. As my brother John remembers it, his financial boss was Henry Dangerfield, keeper of the bookstore and a jolly good fellow, and his administrative boss was Tony Steponovitch, the football coach.

The role of being a student stadium manager really meant that you got paid for each game you worked and you could work every event. You also got to tell the ticket sellers and takers where to sell and take. You did not have to worry about security, because the teacher or who ever was really in charge would take care of any of those types of problems. Very few security situations ever arose during the mid-1940 timeframe.

What do you remember most about times like that? Well, you certainly don’t remember the selling or taking of individual tickets. You do not remember stupid kids who are bothering some other kids in the bleachers. You remember big things, whatever that means.

What I mean is like when you are brought into a room and introduced to the owner and general manager of the famous Harlem Globe Trotters and you stand there and hear them being told how important you are. You remember being introduced to each of the Globe Trotter players, and meeting each of the players from the Utah team that was traveling with them - The House of David - or some thing like that. I do remember a dwarf as being a member of the Harlem Globe Trotters.

I also remember that the Harlem Globe Trotters always won (92.7 percent of the time) and they also entertained each and every one of us - including the stadium manager. The team had been featured in Life Magazine during 1946 - their 20th year. But there were other special events held at the Riverside High School/Riverside College athletic facilities - like Donkey basketball games. This is a game similar to basketball, but in this case all the players rode on donkeys.

Then there was the time when Jesse Owens came, spoke to the crowd and demonstrated his running techniques. Owens drew a lot of people, and he deserved this turnout. When he was a senior in high school he had tied the World’s Record for the 100-yard dash - 9.4 seconds. At a Big Ten college track meet held on May 25, 1935, he set three World Records and tied his 100-yard dash record. The three new records were the 220-yard dash at 20.3 seconds, the 220-yard low hurdles at 22.6 seconds, and the broad jump at 26 feet, 8 1/4 inches.

Jessie Owens went to the 1936 Olympics in Berlin and won 4 Gold Medals during that one Olympics. In three events he set new World Records; the 100-meter dash, the 200-meter dash, and the broad jump. Hitler did not appreciate the performance of Jessie Owens, but the residents of the city of Riverside most certainly did.

Oops, I had better tell you. After my brother John obtained a “regular” job at Riverside Cement Company, I was approached by a football coach whether I would be interested in taking over John’s previous job as the Stadium Manager. Following I spent a few seconds evaluating this proposal, I did accept that position just before I got introduced to the members of the Globe Trotters team and the House of David team.

Speaking of important track events, we hosted some runners from the USC track team during 1948 at Riverside. One of our Riverside runners, named Art Williams, was doing great so they had a special event which involved some top runners from Riverside and other locations. The runner from USC was Mel Patton and he won this 100-yard dash with 9.4 seconds, tying the World’s Record. However the officials disallowed the record because the wind exceeded some type of limit. Williams was right on the heels of Patton being clocked at 9.5 seconds.