Holy Cow, It's the SUPERZEROES

Published in  loaded Magazine
By James Swanwick
Loaded joins a bunch of ordinary fellas who claim to do extraordinary deeds on the mean streets of New York City.
The scene is set: it’s midnight in New York and a woman’s screams rip through the air. A domestic dispute is taking place with her boyfriend in a fifth floor apartment. The man screams insults back and crockery is smashed.
Then, out of the dark shadows, three figures emerge to save the day- holy cow, it’s three superheroes!
This is no comic book story, though. These three crusaders are real-life superheroes, normal fellas who spend their spare time dressing up and performing good deeds for good folk. Meet “Dark Guardian”, “Phantom Zero” and “Life”, whose missions range from the important to the mundane- from stopping robberies and attempted murders to giving out food to the homeless. They’re part of a growing movement that now has hundreds of members all over the States- what’s more, they’re popping up in Blighty now as well.
Tonight on patrol of the Big Apple, the heroes have a new member in their group- loaded-Man- a half-bat, quarter-feral cat, quarter idiot. Together, we’re roaming the streets in search of danger.
It’s just after the witching hour strikes that we hear the woman�s screams. Dark Guardian is the first to spring into action. Wearing a blue and red shirt, tight kecks and what look like aeroplane goggles, he sprints down the streets toward the bedlam.
But instead of flying like Superman, he has another way of fighting crime. He dials the emergency number 911 on his mobile. Five minutes later, a police car with flashing lights pulls up in front of us.
Two officers approach with befuddled looks on their faces. “We’ll take it from here,” one officer says, his eyes popping out on stalks at our costumes.
He pauses, sizing our group up and down. “What’s with the outfits?” he says, a grin on his face.
I feel slightly embarrassed, but my superhero friends aren’t fussed. Satisfied the situation is now under control, Dark Guardian, Phantom Zero, Life and loaded-Man continue into the night
COSTUME DRAMA
Our new friends are all part of ‘Superheroes Anonymous’, a real world internet forum for superheroes to meet and help communities.
Chaim Lazaros (aka Life), 24, is a student at Columbia University and reckons a real-life superhero is anyone who goes out in their own unique persona to do good of any sort. “What makes us superheroes is that we actively go out to do heroic acts,” he says.
He discovered this world on Google. “I stumbled across the real life superheroes community,” he says, “I started going on MySpace and found it really interesting. I was fascinated by these stories of people doing incredible things in costumes.”
Lazaros accepts that, despite all the good work he does as life, most people tend to think he’s got a screw loose.
“The initial reaction is, ‘What’s with the mask, buddy?'” he explains. “Or some people walk past in the street and say, “Whaddup, Superman?’ But once they talk to us they realize it’s very positive- we’re talking up our own time, helping the homeless and the needy.”
Chris Pollak, aka the Dark Guardian, is a 24-year old martial arts instructor from Staten Island, New York. Pollak, who first became interested in real-life superheroes seven years ago, claims he never had a real role model in his life. “But comic books have always been a positive influence,” he says. “Their morals have always inspired me throughout my entire life.”
NO FIST OF FURY
Unlike their comic book counterparts, though, they don’t swing fists- that’s not what being a real superhero is about, apparently.
“A lot of people are fixated on fighting crime,” he says. “But that’s the police job. I’m there to help in any way I can and inspire others to do good acts.”
That doesn’t mean things don’t get lairy on the streets for these lads, as Pollak discovered when a fella went nuts in a shop.
“He was running around the store, yelling and throwing things on the floor,” he recalls. You can tell it’s a story that he’s spun in the boozer before. “I cornered him in an aisle and tried to talk him down. He grabbed a bottle and smashed it into a makeshift knife. I stood right in front of him and made sure everybody got out while another guy called the police, who got there 20 minutes later. It was pretty exciting.”
The costumes mean that, as well as being able to save the day, they’re also targets themselves- for serious piss taking.” I get ridiculed by bloggers,” sighs Dark Guardian. “People can be negative. They say things like, ‘Check out these crazy people running around in costumes. You don’t have to dress in a costume to go do these things.”
Which is true, as loaded points out, “But the idea’s making he point of good deeds as good acts- drawing attention to it,” insists Lazaros. “If I was going out wearing my regular clothes, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”
The most mysterious member of the group is Phantom Zero. At well over 6ft tall, he towers over the rest of the group. A black cape and a Phantom Of The Opera-style mask covers his face. He won�t even tell us his name. All we know is that he lives in New Jersey and works in a call centre. It makes us wonder if Ocean Finance staff in Blighty sneak out to don spandex and rescue kittens.
“I’d talk to people [over the phone] who had personal problems,” he says. “Then my father was extremely ill and passed away, so I wanted to help people and make the world a better place.”
BACK ON PATROL
It’s 1 am on New York’s Upper West Side. Back on patrol, we’re searching for homeless people to feed. *Next Line unreadable*-Webmaster
“There are homeless people there,” Life says. “Let’s not wake them. You have to be careful approaching homeless people, even if you�re trying to help.” We leave food and water.
We go on foot into Times Square, in the bustling centre of NYC. I feel truly ridiculous, but my mood quickly changes when we’re approached by groups of hot women. “Hey, can we get photos with you.” Asks a cute blonde. “Hey, sexy Batman!” says another. “You see? Being a superhero can have it’s benefits,” Dark Guardian smirks.
The night is over and our heroes are making the journey home. We’ve rescued a woman in distress, fed the homeless and spread the superhero word. “You did good,” says Dark Guardian. “This job is about sacrifice. Tonight I could have been partying, but helping others is the life I’ve chosen.” With that, the heroes speed off into the night. Meanwhile, your friendly neighbourhood loaded-Man heads back to Time Square to get those girls’ phone number.- loaded
See superheroes.com and reallifesuperheroes.org for more details.

A Guardian of the Real

By James Boo
Complete PDF of Off the Wookie Magazine
In Mexico City people know the name, “Super Barrio.” Equal parts political activist, folk legend and bona fide luchador, this masked avenger of the poor was the first great banner bearer of what has become a veritable subculture: that of the real life superhero. Send the term through Google, and you’ll come across galleries, networks and Myspace pages devoted to everyday citizens who adopt costumed identities in their quest to make our world a better place. Super Barrio, Captain Jackson, Citizen Prime: These are a few of the names that ring out in contemporary superheroism.
On an icy, blustery weeknight in Manhattan’s Washington Square Park, the only man who can hear that ringing is walking ten paces in front of me, clad in sleek black and red leather and scanning the premises for signs of unlawful activity. His name is Dark Guardian, and he is not a folk legend. Even in his relatively subdued superhero outfit, the Guardian attracts bewildered glances from nearby students from New York University.
“I try to go out about once a week,” the muscular, deliberate Guardian explains as a matter of fact, impervious to civilian doubt. “Some nights I’ll focus on patrolling. Somenights I’ll focus on homeless outreach. I like to mix it up.” After a few uneventful circles around the perimeter of the park, he points out that the winter freeze often pushes drug dealers off of their warm weather corners in this part of town. Had he come across an offender, the Guardian would have confronted the dealer with a threat to call the police.
This is not the lucha libre. Dark Guardian is not about masks, capes or dramatic flair. As the silent gloom of an urban February sends shivers through the city, we hop into his ride, a black Mazda four-door with matching red console and “I <3 Jesus” tags hanging from the rear-view. Our hero pops in an old Linkin Park disc, turns on his portable GPS navigator and cruises uptown for the next part of his beat.
“I don’t get a good feeling when I see police, to be honest,” he admits as we head towards a church that he tends to stop by when patrolling the city. “I know a lot of people don’t. I think they need more- I don’t know how to describe it, but just that rapport with people. As far as fighting crime, stopping crimes, I think they’re doing a really great job. But I feel like the connection with people isn’t there.”
When the Guardian pops his trunk to reveal a case of 12 oz. water bottles and a box of generic chocolate chip granola bars, he’s working to build the connection he feels the city has allowed to slip through its cracks. He strides up to the front steps of the church, where homeless New Yorkers huddle under the eaves of God for a night’s rest, off of public property and away from the reaches of the police, who would rather they find their way to one of the city’s homeless shelters.
The Department of Homeless Services wants little to do with the Guardian’s efforts. “They basically want people to get so desperate that they have to become a part of the system,” he laments, the tail end of a Brooklyn accent flickering through his plainspoken words. The homeless “just don’t want to go there. They’re afraid if they go there, they’re gonna get robbed, they’re gonna get jumped.”
He shakes his head at the reality of the situation. “They’re like, ‘You stay a night there!’ They’d rather be out on the streets. It’s gotta suck to be out on the streets… on a night like this? It’s miserable.” Placing a small action of compassion over the “it takes a system” mentality of his city hall counterparts, the Guardian asks the group of squatters on the church steps if they need any water or food. They welcome the gesture, shaking his hand, joking about his outfit and asking where his motorcycle is. He smiles, tosses granola bars to the men wrapped up in blankets, makes a second trip to his car for more water bottles, following through on a routine he’s been refining over six years of activity as a real life superhero.
Notwithstanding his Hollywood grade outfit, this is usually as glamorous as Dark Guardian’s career gets. “doing little things,” he emphasizes, is the key to his hobby heroism. “It’s those little things, and it’s about getting everyday people involved in doing something.” With no legend to his name, the Guardian thus bears the spirit of Super Barrio, keeping an eye on his neighborhood and using his martial arts training and steeled composure to protect the innocent when necessary, but most of all existing as a public embodiment of the values he hopes to inspire in others. It’s as highly visible role models that America’s costumed heroes envision themselves as a complement to law enforcement and public service. From raising money for youth charities to organizing local service programs to giving out directions in Times Square (the sole duty of New York City’s “Direction Man”), they are at once marvel and mundane. Most harbor no illusions of infiltrating criminal organizations or sweeping away the multi-generational roots of crime and poverty, electing instead to send vibrant messages of community, responsibility and connection to those who would rather step aside than try to save what�s around them every day.
“I grew up in Brooklyn and have a seen a neighborhood turn bad,” the Guardian recalls of his hometown, Canarsie. “I have seen what desperation and crime can do to a community. I’m not axin’ regular people to tell a drug dealer to get the Hell out… but it really is everybody’s problem, the crime, and if everybody started to pitch in a little bit, give back, do something… we’d live in a better place.”
When midnight strikes the heart of New York City, it’s difficult to envision Dark Guardian creating the better place he describes in his interviews, talk show appearances and daily interactions with New York’s citizens. He is, however, surely a hero, and this is certainly real life.
You can find out more about Dark Guardian and other real life superheroes at reallifesuperheroes.org.

Entomo

EDUARDO LAGAR Entomo, el hombre insecto, es el único superhéroe europeo de carne y hueso. De identidad desconocida salvo para sí mismo (probablemente tampoco él la conozca) este joven italiano enmascarado y vestido de licra gris, negra y morada, asegura que patrulla las noches de Nápoles, «una ciudad que se ha vuelto loca», para luchar contra el crimen.

Entomo afirma que está en posesión de una «habilidad paranormal» que le permite «leer los pensamientos», pero tal poder sobrehumano no debe hacerle mucha falta en su pintoresco empleo. Los trabajos de Hércules que este napolitano atribuye a un superhéroe de hoy en día son, además de recorrer las calles para asustar a los malotes, notificar delitos a la Policía, colocar carteles pidiendo ayuda acerca de casos no resueltos, buscar a desaparecidos, promover la concienciación medioambiental, donar sangre y ayudar a los necesitados dándoles agua, comida y mantas.

Se habrán percatado de que Entomo no es un supermán. En las fotos más bien resulta un tirillas. Más que temor, da pena: «No encarcelo a nadie. Durante el día investigo. Por la noche patrullo los lugares que he chequeado. Es un trabajo sistemático. Cuido de la gente y los lugares. Hago lo que puedo para salvar el mundo o, al menos para salvar mi mundo, la ciudad en la que vivo». Como ven, nada que no se pueda hacer de civil, sin necesidad de ponerse los calzoncillos encima del pantalón y un tanga de leopardo en la cabeza. Nada que no debamos hacer cualquier de nosotros a cara descubierta.

Entomo está feliz con su vida de superhéroe napolitano, pero le falta algo: no tiene supervillano que le haga de antagonista y así redondear sus hazañas. En cierta medida resulta bastante coherente, pues los malos de la zona del sur de Italia donde vive Entomo, ésos que cuyas siniestras andanzas escribe Roberto Saviano en «Gomorra», no encuentran en el cotidiano y ecológico hombre insecto un rival a la altura de la elaborada violencia que practican sin piedad. Y es que nunca han existido ni existirán jamás los superhéroes. Pero los supervillanos, sí. Me temo que sí.

http://www.lne.es/secciones/noticia.jsp?pRef=2009031400_50_735563__Ultima-Pagina-Entomo

Real-Life Superheroes – out of the comics onto the streets

There is a growing number of people serving their community. They dress and act like superheroes even though they don’t have any superpowers, they have one advantage over their comic-book idols, they are real!
These low-profile but visually arresting altruists go by such names as Fox Fire, Black Arrow, Polar Man, Civitron, and Knight Owl. They design their own costumes, ranging from outlandish all-in-one latex suits to motorcycle gear. They call themselves Real Life Superheroes, or Reals for short and they are united by a goal to make the world a better, safer place.
According to Chaim Lazaros, a film student by day and a Real-Life Superhero by the name of ‘Life’ by night, the movement is not entirely new: “We’ve seen several waves of activity among people calling themselves Real Life Superheroes for almost thirty years. I personally know some who have been doing it for twenty years. After the September 11 attacks and thanks to social networking sites on the internet there has been a resurgence of the superhero movement. There are currently about 250 active Reals all over the world.”
The enthusiasm for the US-based movement knows no borders and the causes the Reals adopt are as varied as the personas they assume. Super Barrio hails from Mexico where, rather than fight crime, he uses his image of red tights and matching wrestler’s mask to organise labour rallies, protests and file petitions. Ireland’s Captain Ozone conducts his environmental activism while dressed in a light blue body suit, complete with cape, while Canada’s Polar Man concerns himself with shovelling snow from the old people’s driveways, entertaining children and prowling the streets at nights keeping an eye out for vandals.

It may not exactly be glamourous work but it is conducted with a sense of style and panache that lifts the hearts of those being helped. In these times of economic hardship, when the world is looking at new leaders like heroes the Real-Life Superheroes are quietly but colourfully going about their business. They are helping stranded motorists, volunteering at soup kitchens and homeless shelters, participating in blood drives and fighting crime when the opportunity arises.

Chaim Lazaros was trying to organise the first ever meeting of all the active Reals two years ago when he got his calling: “I was trying to find as many Reals as possible to get them all together in one place. Originally, I was just wanted to make a movie and tell their story. It was an awful lot of hard work and once, in a moment of prayer, I realised through all my actions I was doing something that was aiding the community. I fell under what ‘Entomo the Insect-Man’ classifies as a community crusader, I realised that it was true and on the day the gathering finally happened I declared myself as Life and I dawned my mask for the first time.”
Since that day, Chaim has been making nightly patrols in his New York neighbourhood as Life. His uniform is street friendly: black trousers, black waistcoat, hat and eye mask. He freely admits his work is not exactly the stuff of comic-book storylines, there is no fighting villains and capturing criminals: “I realised that walking around in a uniform you don’t get to see bank robbers running out of banks with the alarms going off and purse snatchers that you have to punch in the face. But you do see a lot of homeless people. I started stocking up on water-bottles, grain bars, socks, vitamins and blankets. I would go out and interact with the homeless, bringing them things they may need and offering them a kind word.”
Chaim’s voluntary community work is not the only super-Samaritan endeavour carried out by the Real-Life Superheroes. In fact, the majority of what they do is community based. Chaim was part of a group that included Reals named Civitron and The Black Ghost that organised a trip to New Orleans to help with the fall out of Hurricane Katrina. They cleaned out, painted and repaired a school gym that was being used as a donations warehouse for victims of Katrina. Their work was noticed and duly rewarded by authorities when October 13 was declared ‘Day of Superheroes’.
If there is one thing we can learn from the comic-book legends, it’s that Superheroes usually have one weakness. For Chaim that weakness is a lack of defence training. He has had a couple of hairy moments while out patrolling, including an incident where he was held up with a broken bottle, that could have turned out worse. It makes his nightly patrols all the more dangerous for him. However, one Real that isn’t an issue for is Dark Guardian.
Chris Pollak, aka Dark Guardian, is a martial arts teacher by day and a black and red leather-clad Real by night. He explains his reason for becoming a Real-Life Superhero: “I’ve been doing this around six years. I started off without a costume, just going out doing a neighbourhood patrol, making sure everything was safe and everyone was good, it kind of evolved as it went along. I decided to pick up a costume and become a symbol, to try to become a really vibrant person to get a message to people that there is a hero in everyone and you can go out and make a difference.”
“I was always into comic books,” he continues. “I loved superheroes in my childhood and I never had real role models in my life. I always looked up to these characters and their ideals and I decided one day to make these ideals a reality. Now, I’m out doing it!”
Dark Guardian is also mostly concerned with homeless outreach and helping those that need it most. Along with Life, he also visits hospitals, in character, to bring presents to the sick children there. You would think that the work is laudable but sometimes some people don’t see it the same way.
“A lot of times you get mixed reactions. If I actually get the chance to talk to someone about it they are very receptive. Some love it, some think the costumes are a bit much but generally they understand we are doing good. People who don’t know about us or have bad misconceptions just think we are crazy!”
It’s a shame to think that in some quarters, including the media, the wrong perception of these do-gooders is portrayed. The Reals do their good work in their own time and at their own risk. It’s generally thankless work and if they want to dress up while doing it then that should be their prerogative.
Both Life and Dark Guardian hope their message of community work gets across. They hope that the number of Reals worldwide grows as more people are inspired by their acts.
“All it takes to be a Real-Life Superhero is to take on an iconic persona and go out and do some public good,” says Dark Guardian.
“We continue to inspire others to become Real Life Superheroes or get involved in their communities in other ways,” is the message from Life.
Community service has never been alluring. Voluntary work, by its very nature, usually attracts only the most altruistic people. The Real-Life Superheroes may raise eyes or generate sneers with the costumes they wear and the names they answer to, but their decency and hard work cannot be ignored, rather, it should be embraced. In a world where superheroes like Batman and Spiderman only exist on movie screens or in books these guys are the next best thing.
Ciaran Walsh for RT
http://www.russiatoday.com/Top_News/2009-02-17/Real-Life_Superheroes___out_of_the_comics_onto_the_streets.html?fullstory

Atlanta's Superhero Helps Homeless

ATLANTA — You’ve seen them in the movies and on TV, but have you ever seen a real-life superhero, costume and all?
Over the years, a growing network of crusaders on a mission to make their communities a better place has emerged across the country, including one right here in Atlanta.
A lot of movie superheroes get their extraordinary human powers from an experiment gone awry or a bite of a spider.
Our Atlanta superhero doesn’t have that kind of back story, but he does have a desire to help those in need.
He created his alter-ego from a comic book character he dreamed up years ago and he does all his work in costume.
This superhero is known as The Crimson Fist.
“I don’t really like to use that term [superhero] because it makes people think I’m crazier than I am, but I’m a guy who dresses like a superhero, yes,” said The Crimson Fist.
The Crimson Fist said he started his mission several years ago, after a few years of drugs and alcohol.
He realized instead of hurting himself, he could help others.
Crimson is an IT programmer by day, superhero by hobby.
And while his outfit may look a little strange, he says the mission is what counts.
He spends a few days a month doing charity events and helping the homeless.
Sure, he gets the stares and tough questions.
“A lot of people thought I was crazy. I sometimes question it myself,” said Crimson.
“I have something now, but this will help me later on and I’m just so grateful,” said Jesse about a gift from Crimson.
The Crimson Fist said superheroes really do live among us.
“Just hearing someone say thank you is really the best part of this,” said Crimson.
He said his girlfriend thinks what he does is a little strange.
There are over 200 registered real-life superheroes on something called the world superhero registry, so The Crimson Fist is certainly not alone.
Copyright 2009 by cbsatlanta.com. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

New Orleans resident inspires citizens

By Jake Clapp

Entertainment writer

Deep in the heart of New Orleans, a being lurks — part man, part ghost. It waits to overcome evil and save its home from the predators that would do the city wrong.

He is The Black Ghost, and the night belongs to him.

Many children — and even some adults — dream of being superheroes. But Will Warner is as close as it gets.

Warner, a 42-year-old counselor, filmmaker and teacher at Delgado Community College in New Orleans, created The Black Ghost in 1998 while in the Navy.

He used it as a way to pass the time by creating film shorts and comic strips.

Warner returned from his service in the Navy shortly before Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans in 2005.

“Around the time of Katrina, I saw the violence and hurt throughout the city, and I knew that I could create something to give to the people to give them hope,” Warner said. “Growing up I had heroes like the Lone Ranger, the Green Hornet and the Shadow, and I knew that kids these days don’t have the same type of heroes with the same type of values to look up to.”

People watch the movies and read the comic books and imagine just what it would be like to be Spiderman, Batman or Superman, and wish that they could have the power to jump buildings in a single bound or hang upside down from a web.

To many, though, the superhero is much more than just heroic powers and spandex costumes. It is a symbol representing peace, hope, protection and the ability to change the world.

“It’s difficult to make any kind of generalization about the meaning of the superhero,” said Brannon Costello, English assistant professor. “An appealing element of the superhero is that it is densely packed with meaning and significance.”

For years, this symbol was something people would find only in a comic book, movie or television show, but recently hundreds of people have begun to take it to the streets.

In just the past few years a grassroots movement has formed called the Real Life Superhero Community.

Men and women across the country make their own costumes and head out into their communities to serve and protect.

Their Web site, Reallifesuperheroes.org, has a full roster of male and female superheroes across the country.

Some heroes, such as Master Legend of Orlando, Fla., go out and patrol their neighborhood streets in search of crime; others seek to change the world by actively showing life can be different through hard work.

Warner took his character and developed it into a real superhero the kids of New Orleans could follow.

Starting out with a digital camera and a laptop, Warner set out to create the first episodes of The Black Ghost television series to air on a public access channel.

Since those first days in 2005, The Black Ghost has grown into a full production with the help of 30 volunteers.

Warner constantly works side by side with the New Orleans Police Department to raise public safety awareness.

Through his social work with kids and teenagers, New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin named The Black Ghost the official New Orleans superhero and an Ambassador of Hope for the city.

Warner stays busy, as he and his non-profit production company continue to shoot The Black Ghost and planning a workshop that allows high school seniors to earn college credit by working on The Black Ghost set.

“I’ll know that my work has meant something when I can see kids with blankets tied on run around the yard pretending like they are superheroes, like I did as a kid,” Warner said. “When you go about it the right way, a superhero is a symbol of hope and society. That is all I want The Black Ghost to be.”

——

Contact Jake Clapp at [email protected]

http://www.lsureveille.com/new-orleans-resident-inspires-citizens-1.1359210#5

Capeless crusaders

HAYLEY MICK

From Friday’s Globe and Mail

His transformation into Vancouver’s dark knight begins in the shadows, after a long day’s work and when his 12-year-old daughter is asleep.
First he puts on the knee pads and protective vest; last is the skeleton mask. Before stepping out the door, he grabs a bag of marbles to trip a foe in hot pursuit. “Old martial-arts trick,” he says.
Clad in all black, cape billowing as he prowls the streets looking for trouble, he is no longer a 60-year-old father and husband who fought in Vietnam before becoming a delivery man with a college degree.
He is Thanatos: sworn enemy of drug dealers, gangsters and thieves, and one of a growing number of real-life superheroes.
“We are out there for the people to do good,” he says. “And we’re real.”
A year ago, Thanatos donned his mask for the first time and joined a network of crusaders patrolling their towns and cities across Canada and the United States. He posted his photo on MySpace and introduced himself: “I am fighting a war for good against evil,” he wrote. Soon he was on regular nighttime reconnaissance missions, he says, tailing bad guys, gathering evidence and passing tidbits on to police.
Like most real-life superheroes, Thanatos keeps his true identity a secret. What he will say: “I’m not a fat kid in his mom’s basement or some geek living out a fantasy.”
Hundreds more similarly caped crusaders are listed on the World Superhero Registry, a roster assembled about five years ago that includes the names of more than 200 crime fighters from Hong Kong to Michigan, even Nunavut.
This new breed of superheroes adore graphic novels, can’t wait for Watchmen to hit theatres and are mostly men. Among them are friends of the homeless (Shadow Hare), animal activists (Black Arrow), sworn enemies of Osama bin Laden (Tohian) and one who shovels the front walks of Nunavut’s seniors (Polar Man).
Most patrol the streets alone, but they have vibrant social lives on the Internet. On website forums such as the Heroes Network, they swap tactics on uniforms (should I wear ballistic protection?), patrolling tips (how should I respond to a casual drug user?) and what to wear. “I don’t wear spandex, for a variety of reasons,” says Chaim Lazaros, 24, a superhero called Life from New York.
They are united in a mission to fight criminals and make the world a better place. The growing community is divided, however, over how that mission should be accomplished.
Some want to fight bad guys vigilante-style, remaining in the shadows and adding a caped wing to their city’s law-enforcement ranks. “I’m prepared to make citizen’s arrests if necessary,” writes Geist, a superhero from Minnesota, on his Web page. But others advocate a high-profile existence, helping the less fortunate through established non-profit organizations.
The difference in philosophies often results in heated arguments, says Phantom Zero – also known as a 32-year-old call-centre worker from Lindenhurst, N.Y.
“There are people who hate me online. Because they pretty much think they’re psychic. Or they have superpowers. They think they’re hard-core vigilantes and they don’t like people who do charitable acts.”
Thanatos has seen arguments erupt over whether real-life superheroes should carry weapons, which he is against. “This is not the movies,” Thanatos says. “You can’t leave the guy tied up on the police’s doorstep like Batman. That will not hold up in court.”
When Phantom Zero first went out on patrol, he kept an open mind. Inspired by what he had read about the superhero movement online, he donned a black outfit, a hood and white mask, then set out looking for trouble. He wasn’t prepared to “punch someone in the face,” he says, but had his cellphone ready to take pictures or call police.
“I never came across crimes worse than public drunkenness and urination,” he says. It got worse when he took a job in the peaceful suburbs.
Phantom Zero concluded that “vigilantism is moot.” After that he connected with a group of superheroes who focus on things such as helping the homeless and raising money for children’s hospitals.
One of the more high-profile proponents of this type of work is Mr. Lazaros, co-founder of a group called Superheroes Anonymous. Their coming-out moment happened in October, 2007, when he summoned a group to New York. Decked out in masks and capes, they picked up trash in Times Square and handed out crime-prevention literature. “It was awesome,” he said.
Last year, his league of heroes took a road trip to New Orleans to participate in a Habitat for Humanity project, hammering away in their costumes. Mr. Lazaros plans to make Superheroes Anonymous a registered charity.
Thanatos says he falls somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. He raises money for groups such as the Easter Seals, and every month distributes care packages stuffed with flashlights, food and plastic sheeting to homeless people, which makes his daughter proud.
But he also wants to bring “wrongdoers” to justice by acting as an extra set of eyes and ears for police. Using tools in his “crime kit,” he picks up evidence with tweezers and stores it in sterilized plastic containers. His wife, who goes by the name Lady Catacomb, trails behind with a video camera to document any scuffles (there haven’t been any to date).
Staff Sgt. Ruben Sorge, who heads up the division that covers the downtown Eastside where Thanatos often patrols, says he’s never heard of the superhero. But any citizen who’s willing to dole out food and supplies to the homeless is welcome on his beat, he said. And he encourages reports of violence or crime, “no matter what the person’s wearing.”
Real-life superheroes are often asked why they don’t just do good deeds without the costume or masks, and each has his own answer.
Phantom Zero says anyone can help the homeless, but in a costume you attract attention.
Mr. Lazaros agrees, adding it makes him feel more responsible. “It’s like, okay, now I’m a superhero,” he says. “Now I have to embody these ideals.”
For Thanatos, his identity should be irrelevant. “What I do is much more important than who I am.”
If you could have a superpower…
Come on. You know you’ve thought about it. Would you scale buildings? Soar the skies? Turn invisible? Read minds? Exude super charisma? Which power do you covet most? Weigh in here .
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/article968643.ece

Watchman State

Long before Barack Obama incited our movie stars to give up plastic grocery bags in the name of a more righteous America, long before Rick Warren persuaded millions of spiritual seekers to fill their lives with purpose, a growing number of lower profile yet visually arresting altruists began serving their fellow citizens by taking on local thugs, helping stranding motorists, volunteering at soup kitchens and homeless shelters, and participating in blood drives. They call themselves Real Life Superheroes, or Reals for short, and as their name suggests, their inspiration comes not from elected officials, religion, or the Kiwanis Club, but rather Batman, Spider-man, and the countless other icons of spandex-clad virtue who populate our supposedly meaningless and morally corrosive pop culture.

According to the creators of the World Superhero Registry, an online forum and resource center where freelance crusaders network and exchange ideas, an individual who wears a costume, performs heroic deeds, and is not functioning as a paid representative of any organization are the primary characteristics of a Real Life Superhero. Some explicitly position themselves as vigilante interventionists eager to protect their neighborhoods from bad guys; others imitate their comic-book role models in a more metaphorical sense, applying their standards of justice and social responsibility to various community service efforts. They go by names like Fox Fire, Civitron, and Knight Owl, and at least one of them, Superbarrio, an international crimefighter whose domain is Mexico City, has been plying his trade since the 1980s.

Recent feature stories on Reals in Rolling Stone and the Sunday Times have led to a flurry of interest, but much of the media coverage has exhibited a mocking tone, focusing on the ways in which Reals do not quite live up to their better equipped and more physically impressive fictional counterparts. The Sunday Times piece, for example, opens with an anecdote in which one Real is reconsidering his avocation after getting punched in the face by a “tiny girl.” Ironically, at a time when the ideals of service, sacrifice, and community are enjoying great cachet in the national conversation, Reals who are doing more than merely talking about such notions are attracting ridicule in large part because the better angels of their nature like to sheathe themselves in colorful, tight-fitting uniforms.

But is it really so wacky what they’re doing? After all, soldiers, police officers, milkmen, firefighters, priests, nuns, Girl Scouts, judges, and football referees all use clothing to signify their commitment to virtuous service. Real Life Superheroes are simply putting a contemporary, hyper-individualized spin on the time-honored notion that clothes make the man. Institutions have long capitalized on the transformational power of uniforms—a young Marine recruit donning his Dress Blues for the first time find himself summoning new reservoirs of courage and discipline as he feels compelled to live up to all the values his uniform embodies. A novice in the Catholic Church undergoes a similar transformation the first time she dons her habit.

But what if you’re not a member of the Marine Corps or the Catholic Church, and yet you’d still like to experience the magic of sartorial transformation yourself? While there isn’t a “virtuous sweater” section at Urban Outfitters or Banana Republic yet, you can get a custom-made BattleSuit from Hero-Gear.net, for the surprisingly reasonable price of only $140. “Once you get suited up, you’re a hero and you have to act like one,” explained a Real who calls himself Geist to City Pages last year.

Hero-Gear.net was created by Jack Brinatte, a professional wrestler in Minnesota who started making costumes for himself and other wrestlers. When he advertised his wares on the Internet and started getting inquiries from aspiring Real Life Superheroes, he found himself catering to a new niche; eventually, he created a superhero persona for himself, Razorhawk, and now wears his blue-and-yellow uniform while engaging in community service. “We go out there and try to inspire people to do do good things,” he recently told Fox News. Volunteer in your regular everyday persona, Brinatte suggested, and it doesn’t have as much impact as when you put on a mask and assume a dramatic superhero persona. “People tend to remember that,” he concluded. “Kids see it and it sticks in their mind.”

Of course, it’s not just a selfless act for the adults who don the suits. The U.S. Army used to promise new recruits an “Army of One,” but when they put on their new uniforms, they looked just like every other soldier. That’s part of a traditional uniform’s power—it evokes the strength of all who’ve ever worn it—but in the Internet era of conspicuous self-promotion, it’s easy to see why a flashy and unique outfit, coupled with a proprietary brand name, is appealing to potential do-gooders. Just because you want to serve a cause greater than yourself doesn’t mean you don’t want to be the center of attention while doing it. And have a little fun while you’re at it.

Indeed, while we may have entered a new age of service, sacrifice, responsibilty, and hard work, do we have to be so high-minded about it? Take this YouTube clip produced by Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore, in which a gaggle of casually pompous celebrities promise to help President Obama transform America by smiling more, curing Alzheimers, and foregoing bottled water—wouldn’t it be a whole lot easier to swallow if Ashton and Demi had nixed the ridiculously solemn keyboards and required all the participants to wear Spandex skinsuits while delivering their lines?

Contributing Editor Greg Beato is a writer living in San Francisco. Read his Reason archive here.

http://reason.com/archives/2009/01/28/watchman-state

Cops not fans of real-life superheroes

SAN DIEGO , Jan. 18 (UPI) — Cops in California’s San Diego County say the presence of two real-life costumed crime fighters is acceptable only under the correct conditions.
A police spokesman in Chula Vista, Calif., said when San Diego would-be superheroes Mr. Xtreme and MidKnight take to the streets to protect citizens, they should focus on non-violent forms of crime-fighting, the San Diego Union-Tribune reported Saturday.
“Anyone who goes out and tries to assist law enforcement by handing out fliers and being proactive against the criminals is appreciated,” spokesman Bernard Gonzales said. “But when you start physically involving yourself in crime fighting, that’s vigilantism.”
San Diego police Capt. Chris Ball agreed, saying the two amateur crime-fighters should stick to simply reporting crimes and serving as witnesses.
But Mr. Xtreme, whose identity is a secret, said he and his fellow crime-fighting members of an online superhero community are well within their legal rights.
“We don’t harass people, don’t violate their civil rights. First and foremost, we prevent crime,” he said. “We do what we are allowed to do legally as citizens.”

© 2009 United Press International, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2009/01/18/Cops-not-fans-of-real-life-superheroes/UPI-64571232303637/

Homemade heroes offer low-level law enforcement

It was an unusually warm night for January, and the sidewalks of East Village bustled with activity – people walking to the corner store, the homeless squatting in front of their tents, rock ‘n’ roll types smoking outside a tattoo shop.

It was also the kind of night that might draw evildoers out of the shadows.

So, armed with a belt full of gadgets (stun gun, pepper spray, handcuffs), Mr. Xtreme did what any superhero would do. He patrolled the streets by the light of the full moon.

He doesn’t scale buildings like Spider-Man or emit beams from his eyes like the X-Men’s Cyclops. But like his comic book counterparts, Mr. Xtreme insists on keeping his identity secret, helped by a camouflage wrestling mask with bug-shaped mesh eyes.

Mr. Xtreme is a Real-Life Superhero, part of an international online community of about 300 comic book fans who spend their free time fighting crime and doing good deeds for mankind behind the anonymity of a mask and cape.

There’s Dark Guardian, who patrols the streets of New York City as part of the superfluously named Justice Society of Justice. He wears a black spandex body suit, black cape and hard-shell mask. And in Utah, Ghost puts the fright into bad guys with his skeleton mask, long white wig and black cape.

Other superheroes hail from Michigan, Florida, Mexico City, Italy and England. San Diego’s only other known superhero goes by the name MidKnight.

They are connected via several online networks, including the World Superhero Registry and MySpace, where they share tips on patrol tactics, costume design and dealing with the police.

“Police automatically label us vigilantes,” said Mr. Xtreme, a 30-something security guard who asked The San Diego Union-Tribune to keep his identity private. The newspaper agreed after conducting a background check on him.

“I say we’re more costumed activists. Vigilantes render punishment onto criminals. We don’t harass people, don’t violate their civil rights. First and foremost, we prevent crime. We do what we are allowed to do legally as citizens.”

Birth of a superhero

Mr. Xtreme, who was raised in San Diego, said a wave of violence in the early 1990s – and the public’s apparent apathy to it – left an impression on him.

“They just want to look the other way and pretend it doesn’t exist,” he said. “I felt I needed to do something.”

Then in 2006, he got to thinking: What if the world had real superheroes? What kind of place would it be?

He joined the online community soon after and created his first persona, The Nag. But the heavyset bachelor was looking for something catchier.

Deciding to combine his love of the comic book superhero team Justice League of America with his passion for the Xtreme Football League, he came up with the Xtreme Justice League.

His costume is still in development. Besides the mask, he wears black tactical pants, boots and a long-sleeved, camouflage shirt under a green Xtreme Justice League T-shirt. His belt bulges with pepper spray, handcuffs, two cell phones, a first aid kid, a Double Trouble stun gun and a long Mag flashlight.

He has designed a sweet new costume in his head for when he can get some money together. “I’m going to have a Kevlar tactical helmet, tactical goggles with custom lenses. Obviously I’m going to have a cape, body armor.”

In March, Mr. Xtreme and superhero associate Shadow Hare of Cincinnati spent an afternoon in Chula Vista handing out fliers about a sexual predator wanted by police. They advertised a reward of $1,000 of their own funds for information leading to an arrest.

Then the gang unit showed up and had a conversation with the masked men. Chula Vista police spokesman Bernard Gonzales said the officers were just doing their due diligence.

“Anyone who goes out and tries to assist law enforcement by handing out fliers and being proactive against the criminals is appreciated,” said Gonzales. “But when you start physically involving yourself in crime fighting, that’s vigilantism.”

‘Every little bit helps’

New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin declared Oct. 13 the Day of the Superhero after about 250 superheroes converged on the city to meet and march, but that was a rare display of official recognition.

Most police officers are uncomfortable with anonymous, masked characters walking neighborhoods carrying weapons.

Mr. Xtreme has tried to attend community meetings at the police station in the Mid City Division, but police asked him to leave when he refused to take off his mask, said San Diego police spokeswoman Mónica Muñoz.

“It didn’t work out too well,” Mr. Xtreme admitted.

Police also are concerned that the superheroes are putting themselves at risk.

“What we’re looking for is for the community to be our eyes and ears. If you see a crime, report it. Be a good witness,” said San Diego police Capt. Chris Ball. But “you shouldn’t be carrying weapons and you shouldn’t be confronting people.”

Police have had similar doubts about other citizen patrol groups, such as the Guardian Angels, who seem to have developed an amicable partnership with authorities, and the Sentinels, a Los Angeles group that disbanded in the early 1990s after a member beat an accused drug dealer.

Mr. Xtreme countered the vigilante accusations by saying he has studied the law carefully when it comes to carrying legal self-protection and knows when it is and is not appropriate to make citizen arrests. He said he hasn’t made an arrest as a superhero but has exercised the right in the past.

He plans to reach out to San Diego police in hopes of finding his own Commissioner Gordon, Batman’s sympathetic confidant at the Gotham City Police Department.

Preventing crime, serving the less fortunate and empowering others to take action are at the core of his message.

“When drug dealers see us, they’ll go to the other corner. That carjacker, he’s going to take the night off,” he said.

During a patrol in the Gaslamp Quarter last Saturday night, he drew plenty of gasps, nudges and stares.

A few people stopped to ask what he was all about.

“At first thought, it’s kind of funny,” said Dushaun Fairley, a Chula Vista Realtor who questioned the costume from the patio of Nicky Rotten’s on Fifth Avenue. “But at the end of the day, every little bit helps.”

Staff researcher Michelle Gilchrist contributed to this report.

A long-ago superhero

Mr. Xtreme and MidKnight are not the only superheroes to make a go of protecting San Diegans.

In the 1970s and ’80s, a self-appointed crusader named Captain Sticky squeezed his 350 pounds into blue tights, a gold cape and glittery boots to fight for justice.

The former fiberglass contractor, also known as Richard Pesta, was credited with helping launch statewide investigations into nursing homes and campaigning against rental-car rip-offs and sugary cereal.

He eventually retired the persona but later grabbed headlines when he was investigated by San Diego police for letting his home be used to film an X-rated movie. He testified against the film’s producer in exchange for immunity. He also sold sex tours in Thailand, but the Thai government shut him down.

Sticky, whose name derived from his love of peanut butter and jelly, died in 2004 of complications from heart bypass surgery in Thailand.

Online: For more on Real-Life Superheroes, go to worldsuperheroregistry.com and freewebs.com/heroesnetwork

http://www3.signonsandiego.com/stories/2009/jan/17/1n17heroes002224-dynamic-do-gooders-contribute-lor/?zIndex=38829