In my last column, I started to tell about Sarah Brown, daughter of John Brown, whose abortive raid on the federal arsenal at Harpers Ferry in 1859 earned him hero status among slavery abolitionists as well as prompt execution. He occupies a niche in Saratoga history because, although he never lived here, his second wife, Mary Ann Day Brown, and several family members did, and they are buried at Madronia Cemetery.

Their story is told in a book, The Browns of Madronia, by the late Damon G. Nalty, a San José State University professor who did an amazingly thorough job of research. The book is available at the Saratoga Historical Museum.

Sarah Brown, born in 1846, was the 17th child of John Brown—in all he had 20 by his two wives—and she had her permanent home in Saratoga from 1897 until her death in 1916. Although a talented artist and a person active in church and lodge affairs, her most significant contribution to the community at large might be said to have been her work with the Japanese who had been brought here to work in the orchards.

According to Nalty's narrative, Sarah Brown embarked on this project because of the request by a young Japanese boy in her employ "to teach salvation to his countrymen." Sarah was quoted in a 1908 San Francisco Examiner interview as saying, "I really had no purpose in life, and something told me here was my opportunity to accomplish good. I agreed, and though I knew little or nothing of the Japanese language, I found it not so very difficult to learn, and by degrees I obtained a sufficient smattering to enable me to teach my pupils how to read and write in English."

She obtained recognition from the superintendent of the American Missionary Association and the enterprise thrived, attendance fluctuating with the migration of seasonal workers following the crops. Classes were held at the Congregational Church on Oak Street, near the site of the present Saratoga School, or in her home, or in a laundry in the Village that was operated by Japanese. Sarah lived in a cottage approximately where the civic center is today.

In a 1911 Sunset magazine article quoted by Nalty, Sarah said, "My pupils help me with work about the place, for I do not like to accept money from them. They have made me a vegetable garden and decorated my home and grounds with quaint miniature pagodas and presents of all kinds."

Her work with the Japanese and efforts on behalf of the community did not go unnoticed. In an article after her death in 1916 (her tombstone at Madronia erroneously gives the date as 1917), the Saratoga Record newspaper had this to say about her: "Sarah Brown was an artist—and a master artist—of life. It was what she did that is important, but that in doing it she was able to communicate to or awaken in those about her, especially young people, unrealized by themselves, her own dynamic inspiration and the vigor and saneness of her counsel, conviction, and lofty ideal."

Now, many decades later, one wonders what her reaction might have been to the Japanese internment after the outbreak of World War II. Today, this act of forced relocation and handling of property is recognized for what it was: playing fast and loose with the U.S. Constitution. Back then, except for a few notable human-rights advocates, no one really saw it as so terrible. We on the Pacific Coast were in imminent danger, or thought we were. There is a grim parallel between our present concern over the possibility of weapons of mass destruction emanating from the Middle East and our fear of propeller-driven bombers coming from Japanese-held bases.

I remember the time well. On the night of Dec. 6, 1941, the youth group from the Federated Church went up to Lick Observatory atop Mount Hamilton, and we marveled at the panoply of lights up and down the Bay Area. The next day, we came home from church to learn the nation was at war, and the spectacle of lights was submerged in strictly enforced blackouts. Not long after, our Japanese friends, kids we had gone through school with, were packed off to far places.

I like to think that Sarah Brown, who knew what it was to suffer for an ideal, would have known how to handle the situation.