There they go, the students, off to New York or Boston or Dusseldorf or wherever, to work in cafes or pubs or the men, on building sites. To get money for their fees, where fees are in question? Often to get money for themselves, to help out the family, of course, but also to stand on their own feet a bit more. To have spending money to use as they wish. And to have a bit of a holiday, an experience, a change. To see the world, as it used to be said.
It was very different way back, long before the University boom. Not all who went to college then came from well off families. They would probably have had a scholarship in many cases, or a relative who would help with the fees. But work in the vacation? First, there weren't many jobs in the Thirties or Forties. And any that were going weren't in their grasp. A bit of coaching or grinding for less bright fellow students, maybe. And, the very odd time, a whole summer or a good part of it, tutoring young folk down in a country or holiday house. So what did the student of those bygone days do with the holidays/vacation? Nothing. He or she rested. Read novels in the parents' home. Went for walks. The young, it was thought, would have life hard enough when they graduated and had to face the world. Rest, relaxation, time, were good for the adolescents emerging into adulthood.
And, out of the proverbial trunk in the attic, or something very like it, comes a small bundle of letters from one son, gone to improve his academic knowledge of the German and later the French language. Travel was not dear for tourists and students. The German mark was at 20 to the pound! So there were the odd language sessions, for some, in the university summer courses, for others just with the family. The walks in the woods above Heidelberg. The new smells of cigars and beer. The verve of musical evenings where lemonade or tea was served, and piano and violin and the human voice echoed through the big flat and out over the river Neckar.
So it seemed from his letters home, but maybe it wasn't all as innocent as that. Maybe the extra plea for a few pounds more in a hurry indicated the homely evenings in the bierstube or up at the riverside cafe wine was the drink. And the parents lovingly squeezed out a few pounds more for their son's education. He was young. Life would impinge on him in God's time. Today, youth takes time by the forelock.