One of Philly’s first Black rowers remembered with a ‘Last Row’ on the Schuylkill

A single blue boat carried John Izzard Jr.’s ashes to the dock of the Undine Barge Club on Boathouse Row, where Izzard’s widow released them into the river where he had spent so many happy hours.

The line of narrow white boats sliced silently through the waters of the Schuylkill Saturday morning, with a single blue vessel carrying cargo most precious bringing up the rear.

Their mission was a sacred one on this river, not something afforded to everyone, and not the likes of which are often seen.

But then, neither had they known another man like the one they’d come to honor.

This was the “Last Row” for John Izzard Jr., 80, one of the first Black members of Philadelphia’s rowing community and the first Black captain of one its clubs who served as a mentor to countless youths and had friends too numerous to count. He died Sept. 9 from complications after heart surgery.

The Last Row was one of Izzard’s final requests. That single blue boat carried his ashes to the dock of the Undine Barge Club on Boathouse Row, where, as per Izzard’s wishes, his wife of 33 years and fellow rower, Parthenia Izzard, released them into the river where he spent so many happy hours.

Looking on were the many friends who’d come from near and far to pay their respects to their “Renaissance man.”

“You know the saying jack-of-all-trades, master of none? Well, John was a jack-of-many-trades and a master of all,” said friend and fellow rower Christopher Blackwell, 77. “He was an extremely interesting man.”

Raised in North Philly and a graduate of Cheyney University, Izzard retired from Philadelphia public schools where he had been a Teacher of the Year, said his wife, a psychologist who was also an educator. But he was also a welder, a probation officer, and a youth counselor, among other posts.

He got into rowing in the 1970s after losing a bet that he could keep upright and went on to master the sport with the help of the late coach James Barker. But Izzard was also an accomplished skier, white-water kayaker, and had a black belt in karate. He and Parthenia, whom he met through rowing, also took flying lessons and enjoyed riding their motorcycles.

And he would help anyone in need, friends said.

“He definitely represented a quality one doesn’t see all the time. It’s a certain type of generosity,” said Elvin Ross, 51, an attorney who was a teenager and Izzard a YMCA counselor when they met. “He inspired people to give more of themselves.”

Izzard inspired friends to create an award in his honor for student rowers who epitomized Izzard’s qualities of athleticism, scholarship, and service.

The man who gave so much to others did know heartbreak in life. His son John Izzard III was his pride and joy. He was also a champion rower. But he died from a heart defect at age 38 in 2007.

Being one of the first Black men on Boathouse Row also wasn’t easy, especially like the time some youth from another club assumed he was a maintenance man.

Parthenia said that as a Black man, her husband especially appreciated rowing in a solo scull with just the peace of the river.

“None of the foolishness you have to deal with in the real world is there” she said.

And so it was that a solo scull brought Undine’s former vice president to the club’s dock on Saturday. As Parthenia released his ashes, a crisp breeze carried them along, upriver and away. In their boats, rowers watched with reverence and bowed heads.

Parthenia said that at a later date, the Philadelphia Canoe Club, another group Izzard was part of, will put some of his ashes on a small craft that will be set on fire and set adrift to burn on the river, Viking style. That is their custom, she said.

But for Saturday, his many rowing friends repaired to Castle Ringstetten, Undine’s clubhouse, to tell stories like Izzard so enjoyed doing and to remember.

Said Parthenia: “It’s nice to see so many people loved him.”