Raye Montague moved back to Arkansas in 2006. Her mother, Flossie, the so-called wind beneath her wings, had died of congestive heart failure in 1993, and her son, David, had become a tenured professor of criminal justice with the University of Arkansas Little Rock. By this point David had struggled through a first marriage that ended in divorce, earned a PhD in criminal justice, then remarried and become a father. He was coming into his own professionally and personally, and Raye had been retired for sixteen years. Plus, she had become a grandmother.
“Everyone knew how much she loved her granddaughter, Riley,” David said. “She was so proud of her and the numerous accomplishments she had achieved in her life. She loved that Riley is constantly exposed to opportunities and encouraged. She loved that Riley is consistently made aware of her history as she learns and attempts to figure out her own place in this world. She loved that Riley is being taught to be unafraid of just being herself, and that the opinion of others does not define who she is.”
Raye’s legacy would transcend the way she created a new and better way of designing the navy’s ships and submarines. Ships can be decommissioned, just as the Oliver Hazard Perry was in 2015. Technology changes, but there’s nothing more eternal than dreams, values, and personal drive, handed down through the generations. Twenty-three of Raye’s Perry frigates were still active with the navies of Turkey, Egypt, Poland, Pakistan, and Spain.
Those places were far away. Raye’s glories were long past, but not forgotten. There was nothing keeping her tied to the city where her life had changed beyond her wildest dreams. She wanted to start a new chapter, and she decided it needed to start near her son.
“David meant a lot to her,” Sandra Howell said. “She didn’t want to live far from him, so she decided to sell her house so she could live closer to him.”
Raye bought a home in a gated community not far from her son’s house where the homeowners preferred to sell to friends and family. Her name being Raye Montague, her job being an engineer, she assumed that her old-money neighbors-to-be would presume she was a White male. On Easter Weekend 2006, she moved into her new house, and two weeks later the women in the neighborhood threw a cocktail party so they could meet and get to know her.
“So I went and I had their caviar and all this stuff, and finally they asked me what my career was, so I told them,” Raye recalled. “Well, they were awestruck, and I told them I surely wasn’t there because of drug money. Then they asked me whether I had married, and I told them that of course I had. I just didn’t tell them how many times. I even told them I had a son: Dr. David Montague. They asked me what I liked to do and I told them I liked to play bridge, dance, travel, and do crossword puzzles. I just went on and on like that.”
A week later, the neighbors invited her to play bridge and she did better than expected. “The guy living next door to me was gay, and he always told me that I could let him know if I ran into any problems in the neighborhood,” she said. “He had problems out there, being gay. So I told him I played bridge with them and he said they’d never ask me back. I said, ‘That’s all right. Now they know I can play bridge.’” But the neighbors did invite her back. “Maybe they recognized they could learn something,” Raye said.
After growing up in a Little Rock that had vastly different racial attitudes, it’s easy to see how Raye might have believed she wouldn’t be accepted there after her return. But she came to accept that things had changed in the fifty years since she had been gone. “I think of the places I could not walk into where I am now received and welcomed with open arms,” she said. “People hear about my achievements and assume I graduated from Central High School, but I tell them I graduated from college a year before it integrated. But I didn’t achieve because of integration. I achieved because of my determination.”
College buddy Bonnie Dedrick was happy to have Raye back in the state, because she had someone with whom she could visit and talk about the old times. Raye would drive down to visit Bonnie for University of Arkansas Pine Bluff’s homecoming, and take part in all the activities that were going on, especially the football.
“Sometimes she would stay down here for a week or two,” Dedrick said. “She was like a part of the family. She loved people, and that love was returned to her. Raye never met a stranger.”
Another college friend, Lula Brooks, reconnected with Raye after she returned to Little Rock and became involved with the local Links Incorporated chapter there. Brooks was also vice president of programming for the American Association of University Women, so she decided to book Raye to speak for a Women’s History Month event.
“Although she had always been like a member of the family, more or less, I didn’t know too much about what Raye had been doing in Washington until she came back to Arkansas,” Brooks said. “So I asked her if she would speak at this event and she told me she would. She was so good that day that it opened the door to her speaking at all these other places.” Raye became a popular speaker at colleges, civic and social organizations, libraries, churches, and STEM panels and conferences. In a single week, she was the grand marshal in her alma mater’s homecoming parade and inducted into the Arkansas Black Hall of Fame.
“She was a very outgoing and friendly lady who made it her business to meet people,” said Boston “Baked Beans” Torrence, whose family owns a flower shop across the street from Aunt Gladys’s former home. “Everybody loved her because of her disposition. Raye went way out of her way to help people.”
Part of the way she did that was through her public speaking engagements. She had so many tales about her life that people told her she should write a book. But she said she never thought about it too much. She may not have felt like she had the time. After all, she was so busy reaching out and connecting with people, telling them that they could achieve, no matter their circumstances. She figured she could inspire someone who felt like the cards were stacked against them in life. She could let them know that a great support system and plenty of self-belief could take you farther than you could even imagine, as long as you put in the effort.
“When I needed to get dental implants, my dentist told me that because of CAD/CAM, he could produce the implants in under two hours,” Raye said. “He didn’t know he was using an iteration of a program I had debugged decades ago. Most people wouldn’t want you to know they had dental implants, but I’m proud of mine. I contributed to them being produced so quickly.”
A group of engineering students in British Columbia heard of Raye’s accomplishments and desire to inspire others. The students were on a robotics team that builds robotic sailboats that they call “sailbots.” The sailbot team sent Raye a letter in 2017 explaining how they sailed a sailbot across the Atlantic Ocean and named it after a famous engineer in Canada. In 2018, they built a new sailbot to sail from British Columbia to Maui, Hawaii, and they named that sailbot Raye.
One of the more poignant connections Raye made in her later years was with inmates in a reentry program at the Arkansas Department of Corrections’ Pine Bluff Unit. The program was created by inmates and designed to connect them with outside volunteers with subject matter expertise in areas such as academics, the criminal justice system, housing, finance, substance abuse counseling, and spiritual development to help inmates leaving prison have a better chance of staying out. After finding out that David was a mentor in the program, Raye wanted to go to the prison to find out more about the work he was doing. She was so inspired by the initiative that she became a speaker and mentor too.
“Raye Montague is one of the most wonderful people I have ever met,” said Vonnie Moore-Shabazz, the cofounder of the program, who is currently serving a life sentence. “When she told us her story and the obstacles she overcame, she gave us hope. And for her to be able to relate this to the guys in the way she did and keep them interested? This is no small thing. This place can be a tougher audience than the one at the Apollo. But she was able to relate to the guys, and show them that over time, her work spoke for itself and she became accepted among her colleagues. Look at the work she has done for this country. She is a great American. I can still see her saying, ‘Who would have thought a little girl from Little Rock could do so much?’ She made us believe in ourselves.”
Given Raye Montague’s experiences in life, both in segregated Arkansas and in the navy, two places that were not always welcoming to women or minorities, Raye said she never imagined she’d see a president of African descent. Yet, when Barack Obama became the Democratic nominee for president in 2008, Raye raised money for him, and then received an invitation to his inauguration.
“I look at that and think, when they really gave us a hard time, nobody ever dreamed this,” she said. “I cried my heart out when he won that election.”
As David became more and more successful, she cried tears of joy for his accomplishments, too. She was immensely proud of her son, who overcame obstacles, just as she did. “He had the benefit of a lot of things that other people his age hadn’t been exposed to,” she said. “And he knows, just as I did, that as you reach higher levels, you must reach back and bring others with you. That’s why he has me mentoring at prisons. That’s why he instills in his students the things I instilled in him.”
David is raising his daughter, Riley, the way he was raised, instilling in her the belief that she will go to college and achieve. When Riley was five years old, Raye said she had a habit of poking around on computers and telling people she was working. She mimicked what she saw, and by all accounts, it’s likely that she will follow in her parents’ and grandparents’ footsteps. As it stands, Riley tells her father that she will achieve more than he has when she grows up. She is setting her sights high.
“God, I wish everybody could have a son like David,” Raye said. “He’s firm, strong-willed, but kind. His students have complained about him being a taskmaster, but they’ve come back to him and thanked him for helping them be prepared for the outside world.”
Other adults have benefitted from Raye’s nurturing guidance. One of them, Donna Terrell, is a news anchor for Fox News in Little Rock. Terrell moved to Little Rock from Houston, where she had been caring for her grown daughter who had cancer. She joined the Links chapter after she moved to town, and she said many of the members, Raye included, would call and check on her to make sure everything was OK.
“Raye and I used to talk at night, because after my daughter passed away, it was very tough,” Terrell said. “She was always so concerned about me, and I was grateful to have her as a friend. Sometimes she would email me after a broadcast to tell me that I was great, or that I was beaming. I remember one night I was on vacation in Punta Cana and she called me because I wasn’t on the air and she was worried. I told her I was fine, and on the ocean, and she was so glad to hear it. It was one of the defining moments of our friendship. Raye was always my number one ally. Her love for me never wavered. Her concern for me never wavered. My mother passed away years ago, and Raye was a mother figure who guided me. That meant the world to me. We don’t find a lot of people in our lives with the kind of knowledge that she had that can offer guidance that we need. David was so blessed to have a mother like her. She was just amazing.”
Raye gave the love and care that she got growing up. In her later years, she grew concerned that children were not getting that kind of nurturing, and that it was leading to young adults who were more interested in instant gratification than hard work. She spent some of her spare time mentoring youth in the community and saw plenty of children who couldn’t care less about going to school. “You have these brilliant kids and nobody spends the time to figure out what makes them tick,” she said. She thought back to the career days she used to do in Washington, DC, where teachers would tell her certain students simply couldn’t be reached. One of those students approached Raye, who had a model of one of her ships with her.
“When he saw that, he perked up and had all kinds of questions for me,” she said. “So I explained to him what it was all about and he told me he was interested in aircraft. He had been taking cardboard from the dry cleaners and making plane models with it. I helped him get into a NASA summer program and then he went on to Massachusetts Institute of Technology. And to think he was labeled a lost cause.”
She believed these problems could be overcome, but only with stronger family involvement. “We’ve got thirty-five-year-old grandmothers now, and babies that are raising babies,” she said. “At fifteen years old, what did you know that you could teach somebody? How could you be an inspiration? Some of these grandparents are still thinking that they can enjoy their young life, but you’ve got two more generations that we’re losing. We’ve got to stop that and we don’t know how. Our world is out here, and we need leaders. You can’t be a leader if you’re out here looking like a bum and not well educated. They have to be willing to forgo some of the pleasures in life in order to achieve. Once you achieve, you can have all the goodies.”
Despite her accolades from the navy, Raye’s work was not acknowledged publicly until 2012, when the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette wrote about her. In 2016, she was recognized nationally after the publication of Hidden Figures, Margot Lee Shetterly’s bestselling book about the Black female mathematicians at NASA who made possible some of the country’s greatest achievements in space.
“If I had been accepted at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville, I feel now that I would have been stuck in a cubby doing mundane things,” Raye said, reflecting on her life. “Because I had to go through all the obstacles and hardships, look at how the world opened up for me. Look at the lives I’ve touched and the lives that have touched mine. These were things I’ve been able to do that I never would’ve dreamed existed.”
A local television journalist profiled Raye for a segment that garnered 2.5 million views on Facebook in the twenty-four hours after it aired. Good Morning America discovered the story and brought Raye from Arkansas to New York City by chauffeured limo. She appeared on GMA with Robin Roberts and Hidden Figures actresses Janelle Monae and Octavia Spencer.
“I want to let you know that you are no longer hidden,” Spencer told Raye in a video clip. “We see you. We salute you. And we thank you.”
The US Navy honored Raye as its own Hidden Figure that same year. She traveled to Washington to receive the honor, and she spoke frankly about the prejudices she faced while doing the work she loved. The NAVSEA staff applauded her and, according to David, her words brought many to tears. Raye’s growing fame led to countless other speaking engagements, public appearances, and accolades. At various turns, she seemed proud of the attention and a little bit surprised that she could create such a stir. The late-life notoriety only increased her platform so that she could do what she loved.
“God gave us all many talents,” she said. “If the first talent doesn’t work for you, use another one and another one and another one. If someone places an obstacle in your way, drop back and take a different route. It might take you longer, but you can achieve and excel in spite of the system, not because of it. I did. You can do anything provided you are educated and work hard. You might have to run circles around other people to prove that you’re where you need to be or force doors open. Otherwise, people will never know that people who look like you can do real things.”
Even with travel restrictions due to her health, Raye went to New York a second time to appear on Harry Connick Jr.’s talk show Harry.
“My intern, Nia, went with Mom because I had a work conflict,” David said. “I called to check on them that evening, and Nia told me they dealt with a little hiccup on the flight, but they were fine. They had checked into the hotel and were at an outside café drinking piña coladas. Nia told me she was just loving the opportunity to soak up so many of Mom’s stories. Nia loved her energy, as so many others did.”
After interviewing her on his show, Connick told Raye, “If the only conversation I’ve ever had is the one we just had, I feel like my life at this show is complete. It’s a great, great honor to have you here.”
Although Raye was able to look back at how far she had come since her earliest days with the navy, she learned that many women within that branch were still dealing with many of the same issues she faced when she retired in 1990. She believed that discriminatory practices held society back. The only way forward was to open doors for everyone, regardless of their color, gender, or beliefs.
“She was busy opening doors for people and inspiring them,” David said. “Her message was always the same: ‘Don’t let people put obstacles in front of you, but understand you also have to put in the work.’ She didn’t have any patience for people who weren’t willing to go the extra mile.”
Raye died of congestive heart failure on October 10, 2018. Before she died, she said she would like to be remembered as an inspiration to other people. Yes, she was an engineer and a trailblazer in the navy, but she said inspiring others was the work of her life.
“I was put here for a reason,” she said. “That reason is to open doors for other people.”
After Raye’s funeral, she was brought back to Maryland to be buried next to her mother, Flossie. One month later, she was post-humously awarded the Silas Hunt Legacy Award by the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville. Like Hunt, who paved the way for future Black students at the university, Raye was celebrated as an example of how diversity and inclusion strengthen the fabric of a community and the world.
“I loved her to death and am heartbroken about her being gone,” Debra Moore-Lewis said. “She had a huge and giving heart, and she didn’t judge anyone or think she was better than anyone. Just thinking about her now makes me feel emotional.”
Moore-Lewis has not been alone in her grief. Since Raye’s death, David has embraced the causes that were dear to her heart.* He is an engaging public speaker who often talks to school groups about the power of education, using his mother’s story to captivate young minds in the way that inspires them to reach for the stars, as she did throughout her life—once even touching the moon.
* David Montague is doing his mother proud, between accepting posthumous awards on her behalf, speaking about her legacy, and talking to school groups about the power of achieving one’s dreams. On July 17, 2019, he spoke to a STEM summer camp that was on campus at University of Arkansas Little Rock, where he works. He talked about his mother’s accomplishments, read them the picture book about his mother, The Girl with a Mind for Math, by Julia Finley Mosca, and then gladly answered countless questions from the students. He was invited to stay for snacks but declined as he had a meeting. But if he hadn’t had that meeting, Paige believes Dr. Montague absolutely would have stayed. He likes snacks, and so does she. Later in the day, the students slid several construction-paper thank-you notes under David’s office door. One student wrote: “Thank you so much for coming to talk about your mother. It takes guts, especially since it has not been a year since she has passed.” It does take guts, and Paige has been constantly amazed at the reserves of inner strength David has had, working a regular day job, being an engaged parent and husband, mourning the loss of his beloved mother, and working with a nerd in Atlanta to make this book become real.