Three Jewish refugees, fleeing the existential threat of Nazi Europe, were instrumental in building Iceland’s classical music scene after their arrival in the 1930s. This is according to a newly translated book by Icelandic musicologist Árni Heimir Ingólfsson. Robert Abraham, a pianist from Berlin; Victor Urbancic, a Viennese conductor; and Heinz Edelstein, a cellist and teacher from Freiburg, brought their talents to a nation desperately in need of cultural infrastructure.
Ingólfsson noted that today, as many as 100 descendants of these three men live in Iceland. In late 1935, Robert Abraham, then 22, arrived in Iceland, a small fishing port with fewer than 30,000 residents, carrying little and hoping to avoid questions about his flight from Germany. Three years later, Victor Urbancic, with his Jewish wife, Melitta, found a foothold after years of failed attempts to secure refuge elsewhere in Europe. Heinz Edelstein, with his wife and two sons, arrived sometime between Abraham and Urbancic.
Flight from Existential Threat
The book, “Music at World’s End: Three Refugee Musicians from Nazi Germany and Their Contribution to Iceland’s Music Life,” was published in English this year. Urbancic, born in Vienna in 1903, trained at the Vienna Conservatory as a pianist, composer, and conductor. Though raised Catholic, his wife’s Jewish heritage was enough to end his career under the Nazi regime. Doors closed on him in Switzerland and the United States before an old classmate helped him reach Iceland in 1938.
Abraham, born in Berlin in 1912, was the son of musicologist Otto Abraham. He trained at the Berlin Hochschule für Musik before fleeing Germany in 1934 at age 22. Denmark had turned him down. Edelstein’s journey was different, as a father bringing his family into exile, not a young man traveling light. These men were growing desperate in the 1930s, trying everything to get out, Ingólfsson said. For a classical musician, Iceland was hardly a dream destination.
Western Indifference and Resilience
Ingólfsson stated that the three men were admitted due to a combination of luck, timing, and personal connections. This stands in stark contrast to at least four other Jewish musicians, including composer Viktor Ullmann, who applied for Icelandic work permits around the same time and were rejected. Ullmann later perished in Auschwitz. Ingólfsson highlighted that Icelandic immigration policies were highly restrictive, mirroring Denmark’s policies before and during the war, and that antisemitism played a role in the country’s closure to Jewish immigration. He explained that Iceland, being small and isolated, allowed xenophobia to take root easily, compounded by economic hardship that fueled suspicion of foreigners. A prime minister, on his own authority, closed the country to Jews entirely, he added.
Another factor easing their acceptance, Ingólfsson noted, was that by the time they reached Iceland, none of the three were practicing Jews. Abraham had been raised Protestant by his Jewish parents and was no longer religious. Urbancic was not Jewish, though his wife was. Edelstein had become an atheist. This made them easier for Icelanders to accept, Ingólfsson said, revealing the societal pressures on Jewish identity even in places of refuge.
A Civilizational Contribution
What followed their arrival was a profound transformation of Icelandic music. Urbancic became chief conductor of the Reykjavík Orchestra, which grew into the Iceland Symphony Orchestra by 1950. He led the country’s first performances of Bach’s “St. John Passion” and Mozart’s “Requiem,” and in 1951, its first staged opera, Verdi’s “Rigoletto.” He also taught piano and theory at the Reykjavík School of Music and played the organ in the city’s only Catholic church.
Abraham became a central figure in Icelandic choral music, conducting the Iceland Symphony Orchestra’s first-ever concert in 1950. He founded the Philharmonia Choral Society in 1959, earned a doctorate in musicology, and eventually served as director of music for the Church of Iceland. Edelstein helped establish the music schools and teaching pipelines essential for a country lacking a conservatory tradition. Ingólfsson said these men essentially created Iceland’s classical music scene, turning something depressing and unfortunate into something extraordinary. Their willingness to set egos aside and take on any role—training orchestras, building choirs, teaching children—was critical, he added. This remarkable contribution underscores the resilience and enduring civilizational impact of Jewish individuals, even when faced with the gravest threats and institutional barriers.