Legendary South African entertainment personality Dawn Lindberg had all but written the script for her death just weeks before she died from COVID-19 in Plettenberg Bay this week.
Her devastated close friend, Dr Dorianne Weil, was incredulous when thinking back to how Dawn had written to her about every last detail of the send-off she wanted for herself or Des (her husband) should he go first, which included a memorial ceremony and a musical celebration of her life, at Weil’s home.
“It keeps playing in my head how it was just six weeks ago that she brought this up again, after sending the original ‘Des and Dawn’s wishes’ letter back in August,” Weil said this week. “How could she have known what was coming?
“She wanted me to have a musical tribute to her here, but I explained that I was happy to have a memorial for her where people got up and spoke about her, but a celebration of her life with people singing wasn’t how we Jewish people deal with death.”
Weil says the letter Dawn sent her at the end of August included everything about the burial procedure. “She wanted Josh and Adam [her sons] to arrange it, close friends and family to pay tribute, and artists to perform, but wanted me to provide the refreshments. It included what she wanted done with everything, including her animals. It was seven pages long, and clearly something she and Des had discussed. She clearly wanted her life to be celebrated through words and song.”
These were effectively preparations – Dawn getting her house in order – for an eventuality that one would have imagined would be way in the future. But then on Tuesday, this larger-than-life personality who was apparently healthy until COVID-19 struck, passed away.
“Dawn needed to be organised, which she was to the ‘nth degree’, and in control,” said Weil.
“She was often accused of being bossy and interfering, but it was always recognised that it came with great intention, and was offered with warmth and generosity,” says Weil.
“She was a larger-than-life person with energy and creativity that belied her years.”
Born in Durban on 19 April 1945 as Dawn Avril Silver, she had a Jewish father and an Afrikaans mother. Together with her husband of 55 years, Des Lindberg, they became known as the formidable Des and Dawn. They began their careers as a folk duo in the 1960s.
Says Weil, “Des and Dawn were there to commiserate, celebrate, participate in every significant milestone and event of ours, and Les [her late husband] and I for them. We participated in each other’s journeys with abundance, love, care, enthusiasm, passion, and alacrity.
“Dawn was a character, with her own brand of quirkiness and chutzpah, which sometimes she was entirely unaware of, but that was Dawn. She was always a presence, leaving a trail of laughs and conversation.”
Leading musical director Bryan Schimmel said, “Dawn was a force of nature who had an indefatigable commitment to the theatre industry. Together with Des, they challenged the apartheid government in the 1970s and blazed a trail when their production of Godspellbecame the first multiracial production to play to a multiracial audience in South Africa.
“I, and many others in the theatre industry, stand on their shoulders,” Schimmel said. “The word ‘no’ wasn’t in Dawn’s vocabulary. I didn’t always agree with her, and we had our differences, but I admired and respected her tenacity and ferocious passion for everything she did. The theatre is a darker place without her in it. Bless you Dawn, you have a left an astonishing and unmatchable legacy.”
Avid theatre-goer and close friend, Denise Goldin, said, “Remembering our grade years at Parkview Primary School we all looked forward to the birthday parties that she organised, best of which was her imaginatively planned garden treasure hunt!
“I’m most grateful to Dawn for offering to recognise the significant loss of my son, Brett Goldin, who was an internationally recognised actor, tragically murdered in a hijacking in Cape Town. Dawn in her caring and comforting manner dedicated a trophy in his name to be awarded at her Naledi Theatre Awards for the best breakthrough actor. It’s gestures like this that endeared her to many, both in the industry she loved so dearly and personally as well. An icon whose memory will live forever.”
Jonathan Roxmouth, the lead actor best known as South Africa’s Opera ghost in Phantom of the Opera said, “I struggle to imagine an opening night in South Africa without the legendary Dawn Lindberg. She was a force of nature who left her indelible stamp on everything and everyone she connected with. I will forever be changed by Hurricane Dawn.”
Dawn Lindberg together with Gill Katz co-authored a book, “How Did I Begin?” explaining the facts of life for young children.
Playwright Yaël Farber recalls the words, “Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea. And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.”
“I spent hours as a child listening to the record of you [Dawn] singing Puff. Years of being welcomed into your home,” she said.
My own early memories date to 1966, when Des and Dawn came to perform at Greenside High School during one Friday break. The school had a music club, and the entry fee was 10c per term. The school hall was packed to capacity.
Our friendship began in the late 1980s, and the Sunday Soirée evenings at their home in St Patrick’s Road, Houghton, were not to be missed. Johnny Clegg and Sipho Mchunu performed one of their earliest gigs at the venue. Other regulars were Tessa Ziegler, Mark Banks, and of course Des and Dawn themselves. Supported by the Jewish community, Jules and Selma Browde were always in the audience, as were Dr Joseph Teeger and his wife, Isa.
Yet Dawn’s biggest acclaim was for the annual event she founded called the Naledi Theatre Awards. Year-after-year, each surpassed the previous one in magnitude and glamour, always succeeding to acknowledge and encourage the theatre industry through nominations and winners across a host of different categories. All genres of live theatre were covered with the support of a loyal panel of judges who diligently went to see eligible productions.
I lent a hand to oversee the judging process and hand the envelopes to Dawn at the start of the live event. For Dawn, it was a labour of love, and even when funding became an issue, she and Des continued regardless and unstintingly gave of themselves. It was a full-time job over a year that culminated in a number of events. The awards ceremony was usually packed with entertainment drawn from the fare of eligible productions for the year.
The 2020 ceremony was a challenge because of the pandemic. Undaunted and with the motto “the show must go on”, Dawn teamed up with webinar maestro Dan Stillerman to make it happen.
Stillerman said he was utterly shocked by the news. He met Dawn through one of the Naledi judges, Thea Gafin, when she was seeking to take the 2020 ceremony online. Dan was struck by her energy, passion, and enthusiasm, and found it hard to believe that she was 75 – more like 65, he says.
I’m comforted in the loss of Dawn Lindberg by the characters of Pippin and Gandalf in JRR Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. For me, Pippin is even more appropriate because it’s the name of the international musical that Dawn obtained the rights for and produced in South Africa in 1975, which she would care to forget because it was a financial disaster.
Pippin, “I didn’t think it would end this way!” Gandalf, “End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take.”
