From the ARCHIVE

In 1989, the Soviet Union removed a cap on the number of people allowed to emigrate from its borders. With many musicians among them, hundreds of thousands headed for Israel, as writer Yossi Schiffmann reports

The current myth in Israel goes something like this: out of every three immigrants from Russia the first one is carrying a violin case, the second one carries his cello. ‘And who is the third who carries no case at all?’, asks the customs official. ‘Ah, he is the pianist.’ Well it is a myth but not far from the truth. Even to the professional observer it takes time to grasp the numbers of immigrants arriving in Israel daily. ‘The quantity of immigrants can be compared to the United States of America absorbing the whole population of France in three to four years,’ says Simba Dintz, chairman of the Jewish Agency, the organisation in charge of the huge operation.

Out of every group that arrives in Israel about ten per cent are artists, mainly musicians. In other words, on a crowded day, out of two thousand ‘newcomers’ more than one hundred of them are musicians – almost a full symphony orchestra!

Musicians being what they are, the outstanding talents find their way into good jobs, sometimes only two or three months after their arrival. By now, ten months since the start of this flood, some have already become household names.

Pianist Dina Yoffe and her husband violinist Michale Weiman came in time to join the faculty at the Tel Aviv Music Academy, have given recitals in all the important halls and were invited to play in two music festivals. Yuri Gandelsman, a very energising viola player in his late thirties, landed quite easily in the seat of the first viola player of the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra. ‘Mine,’ he says, ‘was a deluxe immigration. I came to Israel two years ago with the Moscow Virtuosi. I liked the musical life here, and the atmosphere. Then I auditioned for Zubin Mehta and was actually accepted. In a visit of the Virtuosi to New York I had a chance to speak to Isaac Stern. He listened to me playing and said: “you can find work in New York or in Chicago but you will still not feel at home.” Today I can say that he was right. As soon as I was back in Moscow I was treated as a traitor, by no less than my colleagues at the Virtuosi. People stopped calling us at home and made our life miserable. Once I was here it was all changed. (Gandelsman was in his seat at the IPO four days after landing, playing Turangalîla with Mehta.) For the time being I am living in a small flat that the IPO have rented for me. I’ve found a good violin teacher for my two children, who speaks Russian. Only my wife, who was a piano teacher in Moscow, is still trying to find work.’