Tag cameraman

NYC Patrol 07/31/2010 – by Dark Guardian

Met up with Thre3, Life, Blindside, Tothian, Shade, Smaratin and Cameraman. We met at Washington Square Park. Good Morning Japan came out for part of the patrol. They were very friendly and I am looking forward to seeing the finished news piece which will be released exclusively on www.RealLifeSuperheroes.org .

We patrolled around the park veering through the side streets. Drug dealing in Washington Square Park has been tamed down. If there is dealing goign on it is a very small amount of people and there seems to be no hard drugs. We worked our way up to Union Square Park. We helped a lot of people on the way. Life and Cameraman brought a great deal of supplies to give out. We handed out food, water, socks, shirts, tooth brushes, vitamins, razors, and more neccesities. We stopped and talk to different people as we patrolled the streets telling them about what we do. A couple people were interested in possibly doing it themselves. Nothing too exciting happened just an average patrol. Made sure some guy on heroine was doing ok on the streets. Stopping some guy from climbing over a park fence. We found a lot of homeless people staying in Union Square Park. We wound up running out of supplies. Now we know where a lot of the homeless are staying so we can go back and give aid to them. Tothian and Samaritan did a bike patrol after the group split up.

Originally posted: http://super.abril.com.br/cotidiano/super-homens-573741.shtml
Pessoas comuns usando fantasias e nomes falsos para fazer o bem e combater o crime. Conheça o fenômeno dos super-heróis da vida real
por Alexandre Rodrigues
tem uma tragédia em sua origem. O Batman assistiu ao assassinato dos pais ainda menino. O Super-Homem sofre por ser o único sobrevivente de um planeta que explodiu. O Homem-Aranha se balança em teias para compensar um erro – deixou fugir o bandido que depois matou seu tio. Mas Sarah só precisou levar um pé na bunda para se tornar Terrífica, que luta para impedir que outros tirem vantagem de mulheres indefesas.
Ela é magra, tem os cabelos louros, bonitos olhos azuis e um gosto péssimo para uniforme – o seu consiste em máscara, calça, malha e botas púrpuras e um sutiã de metal por cima da roupa. Carrega uma “pochete de utilidades” na qual há de chocolates a preservativos para cumprir sua missão: percorre a noite de Manhattan e adjacências abordando mulheres. Por sua obsessão em tentar impedir que homens se deem bem com as mulheres que beberam demais à noite, a heroína nova-iorquina foi apelidada de anti-Sex and the City. “Minha motivação é simples. Eu tento ensinar a mulheres que elas não precisam de proteção, admiração, o que for”, diz Sarah, a mulher de coração partido. “Não é preciso ter superpoderes para alguém cometer erros. Erros terríveis.”
Terrífica é uma candidata a terapia e também a representante feminina mais famosa de um bizarro fenômeno da cultura pop que vem ganhando força no hemisfério norte. É cada vez mais frequente pessoas comuns vestirem fantasias para defender uma causa ou mesmo combater o crime. Há um boom de super-heróis da vida real (ou RLSH, sigla mais ou menos popularizada nos países onde eles atuam). São bancários, universitários, ex-policiais, que usam nomes como Lebre da Sombra e Capitão Discórdia sem medo do ridículo. Em vez da Liga da Justiça, se aliam em organizações como Sociedade da Segunda-Feira Negra e Tropas dos Combatentes do Crime. De acordo com o site Super Hero Registry, há mais de 300 na ativa: são 6 na Europa, 2 no Canadá, 1 no México – no Brasil, até a publicação e repercussão desta matéria, nenhum. Todo o resto está nos EUA. Se ainda estivesse vivo, um sujeito chamado Fredric Wertham veria essa estatística com orgulho e preocupação.
Tradição americana
Em 1954, o Senado americano organizou o equivalente a uma CPI para diagnosticar o suposto mal que as histórias em quadrinhos estavam causando a milhões de crianças e adolescentes. Assumidamente inspirada no livro Seduction of the Innocent (“Sedução do Inocente”, sem versão em português), lançado naquele ano pelo psiquiatra Fredric Wertham, a comissão era um palco para o doutor expor suas ideias. Acuados, editores tiveram de engolir que seus gibis eram “um fator importante em muitos casos de deliquência juvenil” – lembra a polêmica atual sobre videogames (ver pág. 38).
Se Wertham foi preconceituoso por um lado, acabou acertando por outro: detectou entre alguns fãs de super-heróis o complexo de Super-Homem – um senso exagerado de responsabilidade, aliado à crença de que ninguém é capaz de se virar sozinho e uma necessidade constante de “salvar” os outros. Seria o contrário do “efeito espectador”, em que cidadãos obedientes à lei, diante de um crime, não se envolvem, achando que outros vão fazê-lo. Para Bart Beaty, especialista na obra de Wertham, essa compulsão por se envolver já existia na cultura americana, mas pode ter se acentuado após a comoção com o 11 de Setembro, levando ao surgimento desses heróis de verdade.
“O movimento está crescendo. Já são mais de 300 no Super Hero Registry? Veja só, há um ano eram 200”, diz Ben Goldman, historiador informal do fenômeno e também um herói – ele usa o nome de Cameraman, por sua dedicação a documentar em vídeo as ações dos colegas. Segundo ele, a crise financeira que abalou os EUA no ano passado deu o impulso que faltava para que alguns caíssem no heroísmo . “Muitos perderam renda, o emprego, suas casas, passaram por crises existenciais e pararam para pensar em quem eram de verdade. Algumas pessoas começaram a dar mais valor a sua vocação do que a suas posses. E muitos acham que nasceram para ser super-heróis, por que não?”
Fazendo diferença
“As pessoas estão cheias de indiferença e apatia, mas há homens e mulheres que querem fazer diferença. Somos um movimento, mais do que um bando de caras usando roupas de elástico”, diz Dave Pople, ex-profissional de luta livre, ex-boxeador, ex-fuzileiro naval, ex-cadete da academia de polícia. Ocupação atual: super-herói sob a alcunha de… Super-Herói. O uniforme, como os de seus colegas, foi claramente inspirado nos dos heróis dos quadrinhos (ver quadro nesta página). Como os outros super-heróis, não pode carregar armas para não correr o risco de ser preso por vigilantismo. Apesar do corpo avantajado (ou talvez por causa dele), garante que jamais precisou agredir um suspeito. No que consiste, então, o seu super-heroísmo? Bem, em um domingo à tarde pode estar patrulhando a praia de Clearwater, Flórida, onde vive, verificando se os vendedores têm licença. Ou trocando um pneu numa estrada. Mas, como a maior parte de seus colegas, faz caridade: com outros heróis da região, ele formou o Time Justiça, que reúne e doa brinquedos.

Mas alguns mantêm uma aura de mistério e dizem viver nas sombras espreitando malfeitores. “É como eu posso ajudar os outros”, diz O Olho,herói de Mountain View, Califórnia. Na internet, se apresenta como um ex-detetive particular que passou 25 anos em empresas do Vale do Silício e hoje vigia sorrateiramente o crime, reunindo provas para a polícia. Aos 51 anos, percorre a cidade de carro usando equipamentos que ele mesmo inventa – como uma bengala-câmera, um rádio-periscópio e uma lanterna laser – para vigiar criminosos. Ao seu lado, leva a mulher, ela também uma super-heroína, que adota o codinome de Lady Mistério. “O parque Mercy Bush tem sido a cena de alguns avistamentos estranhos em várias patrulhas. Eu vi vandalismo, duas pessoas fazendo sexo sendo filmadas por uma terceira e, em geral, todo tipo de esquisitos que são atraídos para esse lugar quando cai a noite”, registrou em seu blog sobre uma patrulha noturna.
O fenômeno é mais forte nos EUA, mas já atravessou o Atlântico. “Sou detetive e combatente do crime”, se apresenta Entomo (latim para “inseto”), italiano de 32 anos. Com a identidade mais ou menos secreta – diz que 13 pessoas próximas sabem quem ele é -, dedica-se a evitar o vandalismo nas ruas de Nápoles desde 2007, quando se inspirou com a história de Terrífica. Ele conta que passou por treinamento antes de assumir a vida dupla, mas sua grande vantagem, assegura, são as habilidades paranormais. “Eu injetojustiça“, diz, sem dar mais detalhes. “Hoje é meu terceiro aniversário comoherói. Obrigado a todos pelo apoio. Eu irei celebrar patrulhando as ruas toda a noite”, comemorou Entomo dia 2 de março na sua página no MySpace – que, a propósito, também informa que está interessado em conhecer mulheres.
Sala (virtual) da Justiça
Não haveria os super-heróis de verdade sem a internet. O fenômeno é efeito da web 2.0, que impulsionou uma profusão de blogs e páginas de redes sociais, para heróis e grupos dos quais fazem parte. “Os interessados no assunto juntaram forças, viram que não estavam sozinhos”, diz Goldman/Cameraman. Em fóruns na rede, veteranos e novatos trocam experiências e dicas. Onde encontrar spandex, o tecido dos uniformes dos super-heróis, mais discretos? Camadas de Kevlar, como nos quadrinhos, realmente protegem contra uma bala? (A resposta é não.)

Às vezes, esses fóruns servem para mostrar que a realidade não é tão exigente quanto a ficção. Em seu livro Becoming Batman (“Virando Batman”, sem versão em português), o neurocientista canadense E. Paul Zehr estimou entre 15 e 18 anos o tempo que Bruce Wayne levou treinando para ser o Cavaleiro das Trevas. Para o autor, Wayne é um atleta capaz de ser campeão olímpico no decatlo. “Quero virar um super-herói, mas tenho vergonha da minha barriga”, explica o novato em um tópico de discussão. “Calma. Você deve ter notado que há muito super-herói fora de forma”, responde, tranquilizador, um veterano.
Mas a internet ainda não foi capaz de proporcionar a qualquer dos novos heróis o tipo de fama do veterano Superbarrio Gómez, na ativa desde os anos 80. Quando jovem, nos anos 70, foi guerrilheiro e afirma ter participado de 3 assaltos a bancos. Mais tarde, nos anos 80, o militante passou a se apresentar como um bizarro personagem que, com uma máscara de luta livre e um uniforme que lembra o do Chapolin Colorado, começou a aparecer em protestos populares e greves de trabalhadores na Cidade do México. Embora nunca tenha concorrido em seu país, em 1996 se tornou uma celebridade internacional ao se proclamar candidato alternativo à Presidência dos EUA.
Desde então, foi tema de dois livros, apareceu na série inglesa de quadrinhos2000 AD Presents e também foi tema de um curta-metragem animado, La Vuelta de Superbarrio (“O Retorno de Superbarrio”). Com quase 60 anos – sua idade correta é desconhecida -, aposentou-se no início da década e revelou a identidade secreta: Marco Rascón Córdova. Mas, assim como o personagem Fantasma, a honra de ser Superbarrio parece passar adiante: desde 2005 outro sujeito veste o uniforme. Sua página no Facebook informa: ainda está na ativa.
Vida real
A Califórnia é um dos estados americanos onde o Olho pode agir. Na Carolina do Norte, por exemplo, cidadãos comuns são proibidos de prender alguém. Se algum deles fizer isso, pode ser detido por sequestro. Apesar de até achar positivo um grupo de cidadãos dispostos a ajudar, a polícia de San Diego, também na Califórnia, que vive uma epidemia de heróis, deu o recado: o combate ao crime só pode ser feito sem violência. E sugere aos heróis apenas denunciarem crimes e depois servirem de testemunhas. A resposta do público – como era de esperar – fica entre o apoio e o deboche. Em Nova York, um encapuzado chamado Vida reclama de moradores que atiram objetos das janelas – o paladino da justiça foi atingido por um pedaço de carne crua.
Mas os super-heróis da vida real têm um motivo para não desanimar: conseguiram empolgar ninguém menos do que Stan Lee, o criador de Hulk, Homem-Aranha, Homem de Ferro e outros heróis. “Se alguém está cometendo um crime, se alguém está machucando outra pessoa, é quando um super-herói entra em cena. É bom que haja pessoas ansiosas para ajudar as próprias comunidades”, declarou ele em entrevista à rede CNN. E até Hollywood já embarca na onda: está prevista para 11 de junho a estreia no Brasil de Quebrando Tudo (Kick-Ass), filme que liderou as bilheterias americanas com a história de um jovem que resolve combater o crime fantasiado – e encontra outros como ele. É, claro, uma comédia.
Super-Herói viu o filme e não gostou muito, por achar que ridiculariza algo que ele leva muito a sério. Mas não se incomoda diante de uma pergunta bastante repetida: os super-heróis da vida real não passam de adultos que não querem enfrentar a própria vida? “Eu acho que as pessoas são conformistas”, ele responde. “Eles acham que nós devemos viver apenas vidas normais. Vidas normais são um saco.”
Para saber mais
Watchmen
Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons, Panini Livros, 2009.
Fredric Wertham and the Critique of Mass Culture
Bart Beaty, University Press of Mississippi, 2005.
worldsuperheroregistry.com
reallifesuperheroes.org
English Translation
Every superhero has a tragedy in its origin. Batman witnessed the murder of her parents as a boy. Superman suffers from being the sole survivor of a planet that exploded. Spider-Man swings on webs to make a mistake – gave away the villain who later killed his uncle. But Sarah just had to take a walk in the butt to become terrifying, struggling to prevent others from taking advantage of defenseless women.
She is thin, has blond hair, beautiful blue eyes and a bad taste for even – your mask is on, pants, sweater and purple boots and a bra metal on top of clothing.Carries a “utility pouch” in which there are chocolates to condoms to fulfill their mission: traveling the night of Manhattan and vicinity approaching women. In his obsession with trying to prevent men get along with women who drank too much at night, the New York heroin was dubbed anti-Fri and the City. “My motivation is simple. I try teach women that they need no protection, admiration, whatever,” says Sarah the wife of a broken heart. “You do not need superpowers to someone making mistakes. Mistakes terrible.”
Terrifying is a candidate for therapy and also the most famous female representative of a bizarre pop culture phenomenon that is gaining strength in the northern hemisphere. It is increasingly common people wear costumes to defend a cause or even fighting crime. There is a boom of superheroes in real life (or RLSH, which stands more or less popularized in countries where they operate). They are banking, academics, former police officers, who use names such as Hare’s Shadow and Captain Discord without fear of ridicule. Instead of the League ofJustice, are allied organizations as the Society of Black Monday and the troops fighting crime. According to the website Superhero Registry, there are over 300 on active duty: six are in Europe, two in Canada, one in Mexico – in Brazil, until the publication of this material and repercussion, no. Everything else is in the U.S.. If he were still alive, a guy named Fredric Wertham would see that statistic with pride and concern.
American Tradition
In 1954, the U.S. Senate held the equivalent of a CPI for diagnosing the supposed evil that the stories in comics were causing millions of children and adolescents. Admittedly inspired by the book Seduction of the Innocent (“Seduction of the Innocent,” without version in Portuguese), released that year by psychiatrist Fredric Wertham, the commission was a stage for the doctor explain his views. Intimidated, editors had to swallow that his comics were “an important factor in many cases of juvenile delinquency” – remember the current controversy about video games (see page 38.).
If Wertham was biased on the one hand, ended up hitting the other: caught between some fans of the superhero Superman complex – an exaggerated sense of responsibility, coupled with the belief that nobody is able to turn yourself and a constant need to “save” others. It would be the opposite of “bystander effect” in which law-abiding citizens, faced with a crime, do not get involved, thinking that others will do it. For Bart Beaty, a specialist in the work of Wertham, this compulsion to engage in American culture existed, but may have been accentuated after the commotion with the September 11, leading to the emergence of these real heroes.
“The movement is growing. There are now over 300 Super Hero Registry? Look, up from 200 a year ago,” says Ben Goldman, informal historian of the phenomenon and also a hero – he uses the name of Cameraman, for his dedication to video documenting the actions of colleagues. He said the financial crisis that has rocked the U.S. last year gave the boost that to fall in some heroism. “Many lost income, jobs, their homes, went through existential crises and stopped to think about who they were real. Some people began to give more value to his calling than his possessions. And many think they were born to be super- heroes, why not? ”
Making a difference
“People are full of indifference and apathy, but there are men and women who want to make a difference. We are a movement, rather than a bunch of guys wearing elastic,” says Dave Pople, former professional wrestling, former boxer, ex-marine, ex-cadet at the police academy. Current Occupation: superhero under the name … Super-Hero. The uniform, like those of his colleagues, was clearly inspired by the heroes of the comics (see box this page). Like other superheroes, he can not carry weapons as you run the risk of being arrested for vigilantism. Despite topping the body (or perhaps because of it) ensures that never needed to assaulting a suspect. As is, then, your super-heroism? Well, on a Sunday afternoon may be patrolling the beach in Clearwater, Fla., where he lives, making sure the vendors are licensed. Or changing a tire on a road. But like most of his colleagues, does charity: with other heroes of the region, he formed Team Justice, which collects and donates toys.
But some maintain an aura of mystery and they say live in the shadows lurking criminals. “It’s like I can help others,” says Eye, hero of Mountain View, California. On the Internet, presents himself as a former private investigator who spent 25 years at companies in Silicon Valley and today oversees sneak crime, gathering evidence for police. After 51 years, runs through the town by car using equipment that he invented – as a cane-camera, a periscope and a radio-flashlight laser – to monitor criminals. At his side, takes the woman, she is also a superhero, which adopts the codename of Mystery Lady. “Mercy Bush Park has been the scene of some strange sightings on several patrols. I saw vandalism, two people having sex being shot by a third and, in general, all sorts of weird that they are attracted to this place when night falls” , noted in his blog on a night patrol.
This phenomenon is stronger in the U.S. but has already crossed the Atlantic.”I’ma detective and crime fighter,” presents Entom (Latin for “bug”), Italian 32.With more or less secret identity – says 13 people nearby know who he is – is dedicated to prevent vandalism in the streets of Naples since 2007, when he was inspired by the story of terrifying. He tells that went through training before assuming the double life, but its greatest advantage, ensures they are paranormal abilities. “I inject justice, “he says, without elaborating. “Today is my third anniversary as hero. Thank you all for your support. I will conclude by patrolling the streets all night, “Entom celebrated March 2 at his MySpace page – which, incidentally, also says it is interested in knowing women.
Room (virtual) of Justice
There would be the superheroes of truth without the internet. The phenomenon is the effect of Web 2.0, which boasted a profusion of blogs and social networking pages for heroes and groups to which they belong. “Those interested in the issue joined forces, they saw that they were not alone,” says Goldman / Cameraman. In forums on the net, beginners and veterans share experiences and tips. Where to find Spandex, the fabric of the uniforms of superheroes, more discreet? Layers of Kevlar, as in the comics, actually protect against a bullet? (The answer is no.)
Sometimes, these forums serve to show that reality is not so picky about the fiction. In his book Becoming Batman (“Batman Turning” without version in Portuguese), the Canadian neuroscientist E. Paul Zehr estimated between 15 and 18 years time that Bruce Wayne took training to be the Dark Knight. For the author, Wayne is an athlete able to be Olympic champion in the decathlon. “I want to become a superhero, but I am ashamed of my belly, “says the rookie on a topic of discussion. “Calm down. You may have noticed that there is much super-hero out of shape, “says, reassuringly, a veteran.
If you think that conflict is missing, not missing more: virtual protected by anonymity, have begun to emerge the first supervillain. “Your actions mean nothing to me. You are heroes like a plastic toy. An insect asking to be crushed,” Black Horizon challenged in his introductory video on YouTube. Like most real heroes, he does not lose the chance to give interviews.”There can be a superhero without super-villain, “advocates. “And, as superheroes are spreading out there, here I am.” And to be a villain can be enriching?”I like to see adults and children suffer.” As the heroes gather in groups, “supervillains” also formed his own: the Black Circle – for now, its evils were only on the promise.And feel forgiven those who start to laugh knowing that one of the architects of the forces of evil is Masturbator Black.
But the Internet has not yet been able to provide any kind of new heroes of Fame veteran Superbarrio Gomez, both active since the 80s. As a young man in the ’70s, was a guerrilla and claims to have participated in three bank robberies. Later in the ’80s, the militants began to present itself as a bizarre character with a mask of wrestling and a uniform reminiscent of Chapolin Colorado, began appearing in popular protests and strikes by workers in Mexico City. Though he never competed in his country in 1996 became an international celebrity when he proclaimed alternative candidate for U.S. president.
It has since been the subject of two books, appeared in the series Britishcomic 2000 AD Presents, and also was the subject of an animated short film, La Vuelta de Superbarrio (“The Return of Superbarrio). With nearly 60 years – his correct age is unknown – he retired in the early and revealed the secret identity: Marco Rascón Cordoba. But like the character Ghost, the honor of being Superbarrio seems to pass along: since 2005 the other guy wears the uniform. His Facebook page states: is still active.
Real Life
California is one state where the Eye Americans can act. In North Carolina, for example, ordinary citizens are forbidden to arrest someone. If any of them do, be arrested for kidnapping. Although even find a positive group of citizens willing to help, police in San Diego, also in California, who lives an epidemic of heroes, gave the message: the fight against crime can only be done without violence. And it suggests to the heroes only report crimes and then serve as witnesses. The public response – as expected – is between the support and debauchery. In New York, a hooded called Life calls from residents who throw objects from windows – the champion of justice was hit by a piece of raw meat.
But the superheroes in real life have a reason not to lose heart: could excite none other than Stan Lee, creator of the Hulk, Spiderman, Iron Man and other heroes. ‘If someone is committing a crime if someone is hurting someone else, is when a super-hero enters the scene. It is good that there are people eager to help their communities “he said in an interview with CNN. Even Hollywood has embarked on the wave: is scheduled for the June 11 premiere of Breaking Everything in Brazil (Kick-Ass), a film which topped the U.S. box office with the story of a young man who decides to fight crime dressed – and find others like him. It is of course a comedy.
Super-Hero saw the movie and did not much like, thinking that ridicules something he takes very seriously. But do not mind facing a much repeated question: superheroes in real life are just adults who do not want to face their own life? “I think people are conformist,” he replies. “They think we just live normal lives. Normal lives suck.”
To learn more
Watchmen
Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons, Panini Books, 2009.
Fredric Wertham and the Critique of Mass Culture
Bart Beaty, University Press of Mississippi, 2005.
worldsuperheroregistry.com
reallifesuperheroes.org

Orignially posted: http://www.gaugemagazine.org/_articles/superheroes/super1.html
By Even Allen
Civitron steps out of a blue Honda Civic in the dark parking lot of an old converted factory building in New Bedford. More than six feet tall, he’s wearing a skintight red spandex bodysuit with a blazing orange ‘C’ on his chest. White sunglasses. Combat boots. A utility belt and improvised arm guards—as he strides into the light of a single bulb hanging in front of the door to the factory, the Nike swoosh of a soccer shin guard is visible on his forearm. He is a Real Life Superhero, and the factory—which looks abandoned with its rough bricks and huge murky windows—contains his lair: Rebelo’s Kenpo Karate Studio. Here, surrounded by multi-colored punching dummies, he trains in Northern Style Praying Mantis Kung Fu.
To protect his civilian identity, Civitron will not allow his real name to be used. He is a twenty-nine year old husband and father, and by day, he works at a program for adults with autism. His dark hair is moussed pompadour-style, and he has a wide, easy grin, his front teeth just a little bit crooked. When he’s not fighting for truth and justice, he’s a normal guy—he even irons his superhero suit.
‘Civitron’ means ‘power of the people’—this is also his cause. His superpowers include helping the homeless, raising money for children’s charities, and distributing water bottles to people enjoying the summer sun without proper hydration. He is one of a growing number of people across America creating superhero identities, donning homemade costumes, and going out into the night to do good. “It’s about standing up for what you believe in and taking action,” he says. “It’s actually being the change you want to see in the world, to quote Ghandi.”
A Real Life Superhero starts with a fantasy from childhood. “It’s just a seed that gets planted within a lot of people,” says Civitron. “As you grow up, you lose that fantastic part of it.” But Real Life Superheroes are reclaiming that Saturday morning cartoon world, taking the myth of the superhero and putting it into action in the real world: hyper-altruism decked out in bright colors.
It’s not exactly the Pow!-Kabam!-crime fighting that Batman practiced. “You read comic books, and you see the example that’s there—this violent image of muscle-y guys and girls pounding people and jumping off rooftops—and battling aliens, which you don’t see.” Civitron laughs. “So we kinda had to invent it ourselves.”
There are about 200 Real Life Superheroes in America. Only about fifty are active—meaning that they don’t simply call themselves by a superhero name, but dress up and champion a cause in the real world. Many conduct homeless outreach, distributing food, jackets, and blankets; some focus on environmental cleanup. Terrifica, one of the early superheroes, helped drunk girls leaving the clubs in New York get home safely until her recent retirement. Foxfire in Michigan wears a black leather jacket and fox facemask—her goal is to bring “magic, mystery, wonder, and awe back into the American psyche.” Some superheroes, like Dark Guardian in New York City, patrol the streets fighting crime. “We’re watching over people,” says Civitron. “At least on a small scale.”
Until about three years ago, Real Life Superheroes existed as a loose affiliation of Myspace accounts—people with superhero identities, some of whom actually lived as superheroes, and some of whom just talked about it. But Chaim “Life” Lazaros, 25, and Ben “The Cameraman” Goldman, 23, both of New York City, brought this Internet subculture into the real world with Superheroes Anonymous—a now-annual gathering of superheroes from across America. Today, Lazaros and Goldman are working with Civitron to turn Superheroes Anonymous into a national nonprofit organization, with chapters all over the country.
When Lazaros and Goldman planned the first gathering, they were not superheroes—they were documentary makers, interested in bringing together as many superheroes as they could to interview them. On October 7, 2007, superheroes from as far away as Minnesota converged in Times Square to pick up trash and help the homeless. In the process of documenting their stories, both Lazaros and Goldman became more than just filmmakers: they joined the movement.
Lazaros was a film student at Columbia University when he began organizing the project. “I really devoted my life to [Superheroes Anonymous] for a very, very long time,” he says. “So much so that I stopped going to school, stopped eating, stopped sleeping.” He slowly realized that as he sacrificed more and more of his life and time to the Superheroes, he was becoming one. Two days before the meeting, in a moment of meditation, he saw that he was a “community crusader”—a less flashy superpower, perhaps, than X-Ray vision or flight, but the realization changed his life. “On the day of the meeting,” he says, “I declared myself as ‘Life’ and became a Real Life Superhero.”
Today, as Life, Lazaros does homeless outreach. He goes out onto the streets at least once a week in full costume—a “hipster militarized business suit” consisting of a skinny black tie, a fedora, black S.W.A.T. pants, military boots, a military jacket, and, most importantly, a backpack full of hand-warmers, heating pads, Nutrigrain bars, toothbrushes, and clothing. For Lazaros, as for all superheroes, the costume is important. Not only does it draw attention to their cause, it symbolizes a moral calling. “I believe I feel the same as when a priest puts on his collar or a police officer puts on his badge,” says Lazaros. “He’s now standing for something higher and he has to act that way.”
‘Life’ is his best self—not an alternate self. For many superheroes, the identity is not one that can be shed—It is not pretend, it is not an act. “It’s less of a Clark Kent/Superman kind of transformation, and more of a Punisher kind of thing,” explains Ben Goldman. “He’s kind of always The Punisher.”
More than three years after the first Superheroes Anonymous meet-up, Goldman is still documenting the stories of the superheroes—and they’ve given him his own superhero name: The Cameraman. In addition to making footage for his documentary, Goldman accompanies superheroes when they go out to fight crime. Dark Guardian patrols Washington Square Park in New York City, telling drug dealers to get out, and threatening to call the police. Goldman films these street patrols, both to deter and to record violence.
In one clip, Dark Guardian, who wears a bullet- and stab-proof red and black suit, confronts a man sitting on a picnic table in the park at night, who he believes is selling drugs. “You gotta go!” he yells, and the man stands up—he towers over Dark Guardian. They go back and forth—“Mind your fuckin’ business,” warns the man, shoving his hand in Dark Guardian’s face, thumb cocked and index and middle fingers pointing straight ahead in the shape of a gun. He walks away cursing as Dark Guardian calls the police, and Dark Guardian turns to the camera. “What was that like?” asks Goldman. “A little scary,” says Dark Guardian. “I was waiting for him to move towards me so I could fuckin’ nail him in the throat.” His bravado slips for just a second as his laugh cracks, high and panicky.
Many superheroes avoid crime fighting—Civitron, despite holding an Orange belt in Kung Fu, does not go out on street patrols. “The cops—that’s their job,” says Civitron.
The cops agree. New Bedford Police Leiutenant Jeffrey Silva says that civilian crime fighting actually heightens the danger in any given situation – instead of one victim, police respond to two. “It’s terrible any time there’s a crime victim,” he says. “But it would be particularly sad if someone trying to do a good thing and help others, because they’re identifiable as a crime fighter, got hurt in the process.” And if even if a superhero emerges from a fight unscathed, there is a fine line between making a citizen’s arrest and committing a crime. If a superhero punches and pins a criminal, they could be charged with assault. Advises Silva: “We would respectfully remind [any] superheroes, actual or aspiring, that, as they say in Spider Man: With great power comes great responsibility.”
Superheroes Anonymous officially discourages crime fighting. For many superheroes—including Civitron and Life—crime fighting was something they did when they were first figuring out their superhero identities. “That’s the example, you know?” says Civitron. “In the comic books.” In the early days of his superhero identity, Civitron wore grey and black and patrolled the streets from Beverly to downtown Salem every night, looking for signs of criminals—he never saw any. “I think my mission is a little different,” he says. “Injustice is not always necessarily crime.”
Civitron is a social activist and a family man. His son is six, and has a superhero identity of his own: Mad Owl, protector of woodland creatures. Together, Civitron and Mad Owl raise money for St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital in New York. St. Mary’s is a center for terminally ill children, and the fundraiser was Mad Owl’s idea: after saving $75 in pennies to go to Disney World, Mad Owl decided instead to use the money to buy toys for the children. This is Civitron’s proudest achievement: inspiring his son to join the good fight. “For me—for Civitron… It goes back to that power, that individual power.” The power to change the world—and to look flashy as hell doing it.
“I want everybody to be a superhero,” says Civitron, smiling. He turns to his karate instructor, Joe Rebelo. “Mr. Rebelo is a superhero,” he says. “I know that. Is he actively pursuing the sort of set criteria for being a superhero? No. That’s just his life, that’s who he is. We’re everywhere. That’s what I mean. Everybody has that potential. Everybody can be a superhero.”

 

Originally posted in Death + Taxes Magainze MarchApril 2010 issue
By Breena Ehrlich
Hollywood abounds with stories these days. But somewhere out there just beyond the shadows, from New York City to Mexico City to New Bedford, Massachusetts, lurks a bona fide, HONEST TO GOD NETWORK OF REAL REAL –LIFE SUPERHEROES. They are not Watchmen. They are not even Kick-Ass or Red Mist. No bullet-proof vest, no Chinese stars. These are normal people- students, bankers, what have you. They just happen to patrol over society in costume, fighting crime and doing good deeds under aliases like Life and The Dark Guardian. They are Superheroes Anonymous. For real.
What’s going on here?” Life asks, ambling up to a pair of cops as they peer though the dusty glass doors of a seemingly abandoned building. The copes turn around, take in the young man’s young face; he looks like one of the Culkin brothers- like that kind from Igby Goes Down. The kid’s fedora is set at a jaunty angle, his black cargo pants are tucked into black jungle boots, his backpack weighs down his shoulders, even though they’re thrown back confidently. He looks like a Brooklyn-dweller. A college student. A kid. Perhaps a nosy kid, the kind that watched too many cops shows as a kid. They probably don’t notice the black mask hanging from his belt loop, or the tzitzis poking out the bottom of his black winter coat.
One of the cops, a jowly man with buzzed hair and a gently swelling belly, gives Life a slight smile. “WE got a call. Some woman can’t get a hold of her husband who’s a security guard. She says she works here, but this place seems abandoned,” he answers with surprising candor and a perfectly stereotypical New York Accent.
“Yeah,” says the other cop, running his hand over his slicked-back gray hair, which still has comb tracks in it from earlier grooming. “I mean, there’s tap on the windows. That means it’s abandoned, right?”
The copes continue to peer though the darkened windows as Life jumps down to inspect a basement-level door. The radios on their belts buzz and crackle: “The missing child is approximately four feet tall, wearing a striped sweater. The suspect-“ Life joins the copes on the steps in mutual consideration of the darkened building, a gray stone apartment building near the Columbia University campus- close enough to Riverside Park that the assemblage can feel the cold air off the water buffeting their backs and faces. The jowly cop’s cheeks are red.
The men in blue bang on the door a few times and then turn to Life with equally stern brows. “Stand back,” says the gray haired cop and positions his shoulders as if to break the door down. Life hops back a little and the cops laugh. “Just Kidding,” Comb Tracks says.
“So are you a student?” Jowls inquires, apparently in no hurry to solve the mystery of the missing security guard.
“No, actually I’m a Real-Life Superhero, Life says with a slight smile, fingering the mask that hangs from his side. The cops look at each other with raised eyebrows and more than a hint of amusement.
“Oh yeah? Well, can you tell us where Columbia security is?” Jowls says with a brief smile. “Maybe they can help us figure out where this guard is
Life gives them directions and follows them to their car,” I can get in and go with you guys if you’d like…” he says, lingering near the cruiser.
“Ha, ha, nah,” says Jowls. “Thanks.” The cops drive off into the night, leaving Life and his backpack in front of the darkened building.
With the squad car disappears the glimmer of danger, the opportunity to race off in the night, the blue and red flashing. In a movie or a comic book this would be the point where our hero’s story really heats up: He discovers that the mission guard has been captured by an evil avenger with a rampant disdain for any and all authority figures- and now the poor old man is being held hostage in some fortress in the dark recesses of Governor’s Island. And because the bumbling cops neglected to adequately hunt for clues our hero is tasked with his safe return. But this is not a move. This is no adaptation- just plain old New York.  IN the realm of the real, Life watched the cruiser disappears into the night, sighs a puff of cold-etched air, and jaywalks across the street. As he hops from the sidewalk, his boots clearing the curb, he indulges a brief exclamation: “Zing!”
LIFE A.K.A. CHAIM LAZAROS is a real-life superhero- designation that would likely cause many a reader to snort in derision or laugh in abject mockery. Visions of plump, sad comic book fans in spandex leap to mind- images of computer geeks wandering around darkened streets, desperately seeking some nefarious B-level crime to debunk. That’s not Life. Life is a do-gooder. He doesn’t fight crime per se– he takes to the streets and provides aid to the poor souls who many of us outright ignore: the homeless.
In a sense, this is his superpower. Where comic superheroes might manifest their powers through a supernatural affinity for controlling the weather or assuming arachnid capabilities, Life’s chosen specialty is the homeless- although he’s the first to admit that he doesn’t actually have any special abilities. “I hate when people ask where my cape is,” Life says. “Capes are stupid and ineffective. No one flies… I don’t have any super powers,” he adds. “I’m just a person. A poor, young person in New York City- and I help a lot of people. I’m not special.” Nevertheless, as his name suggests, Life provides sustenance and, well, life, to the downtrodden, specializing in a particular realm of aid- and to do so he tapes into his two natural abilities: kindness and an aptitude for spin. Life is a natural PR man, an organizer who uses the aesthetic of the super hero, the sheer flashiness of the concept, to attract others to his cause.
Life is one of the heads of Superheroes Anonymous, a collective of citizen who have made it their mission to do good by the world. Some do it in much the same way as Coalition for the Homeless or Habitat for Humanity, and some do it with the more dangerous, risky flair of vigalantes- but they all do it in costume. Each year it holds a sizable conference during which heroes from all over the world assemble. So far there have been three conferences: one in Times Square, New York City, one in New Orleans, and the most recent in New Bedford, Massachusetts, also known as The Secret City due to its large volume of unsolved homicides.
Superheroes Anonymous, which coalesced into its current state in 2007, hardly marks the first incarnation of real-life superhero-dom, although it is probably the most organized superhero affiliation. According to a history written by Hardwire, a hero from Greensboro, North Carolina, the first real-life superhero date back to the seventeenth century- his name was William Lamport, or Zorro. The modern ideal of real-life heroes started to solidify in the seventies with Captain Sticky, a man by the name of Richard Pesta who would patrol San Diego in a bubble-topped Lincoln clad in blue tights and a cape, working to launch investigations into elder care. And then there was Rick Rojatt, a daredevil known as The Human Fly, whose entire family was killed in a car crash that left him temporarily crippled. The nineties heralded the arrival of Marco Rascon Cordova, a Mexico City resident who became Superbarrio and championed the poor and working class, and Terrifica, a New Yorker who took it upon herself to protect drunken women from unwanted advances. And then there’s Civitron, a father and former counselor for children in transition who patrols New Bedford, Massachusetts with his son, The Mad Owl, a superhero-in-the-making with a love for woodland creatures.
In short, this underground community was flourishing, the network reaching across the world. But it was a fractured connection; these do-gooders mostly communicated via Internet forums and MySpace pages, connected only through the currents of the digital age- until Life came along.
Like all superheroes, life has his own creation myth, which more closely mirrors that of the famed comic book authors that of yore than the apocryphal tales of Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne. Like the majority of old-school creators- immigrants and children of immigrants who invented heroes to battle the myriad woes of their woes- Lazaros is a Jew, the son of an Orthodox rabbi who has seven children in all. The second –oldest child, Lazaros is kind of the black sheet. “He’s a very idealistic kid and he has a lot of pity on people that are downtrodden and homeless. He’s a do-gooder and he wants to do go,” his father says, recalling how, as a child, Life took on his entire bunk at sleepaway camp when they were picking on smaller boy.  Still, he hasn’t quite taken the path that his father would like him to.” I thought it was more like a hobby,” his father says of Life’s superheroing. “But it became a very major part of his life. And obviously as a parent I think there are more important priorities. He’s just turned twenty-five. I’d like to see him get married. I’d like to see him have some kind of a vocation that earns a living. This is a nice thing to do on the side, you know, if you have another career. You have a family and you want to do something like this in your free time, that’s okay. But I don’t think it should be taking up the main part of your time.”
Before he became Life, Chaim was on a path that any proud Orthodox papa would approve of. He attended Yeshiva University- a college that focuses on Jewish scholarship- in New York for one year before deciding that he was too smart for the religious school. He also wanted to study film. He applied to NYU and got in (twice), but his family didn’t have the money to send him. So he left college and worked at one of the country’s top ad agencies, J Walter Thompson, where he executed the mindless task of paying invoices before realizing that he wasn’t going anywhere. He had been attending Brooklyn College at night and living in Crown Heights when his girlfriend suggested he apply to Columbia. He got in, they provided him with ample scholarships, and he was able to follow his chosen path: film studies. Little did he know that becoming a superhero would also be apart of his course of study.
Three years ago, Chaim’s friend Bend Goldman, a senior at New York’s New School, saw a sign reading “Real Life Superheroes” outside a comic book store. He was intrigued, so he Googled the term. The sign turned out to be an advertisement for a drawing class, but Goldman’s internet search revealed the rich history of the movement. Both film students, Lazaros and Goldman decided that the subject was ripe for documentation. “This whole project started off as a documentary,” Ben says. “It’s like a case of Gonzo Journalism where the documentarian becomes the subject, especially with Chaim, since he became a superhero through the project.”
“They’re very isolated in all these different communities and only communicate through MySpace and stuff like that,” Chaim says, “There had been a few very small meet-ups, but it was really this Internet culture. Basically we realized that if we made the first all-encompassing gathering of all the superheroes, then we would be able to shoot a documentary in a day.”
And so it began- the first meeting of Superheroes Anonymous. For Chaim, the convention became an all-consuming task. He barely slept. He lost fifteen pounds. He dedicated every moment to orchestrating a massive gathering to take place in New York’s Time Square. And then the duo hit a snag.
“There was a lot of this bullshit started by this one particular superhero that founded the biggest forum on the Internet for superheroes. He’s named Tothian,” Chaim says, “At the time he was respected just because he was a moderator of this forum he started.”
Tothian is a mysterious figure who resided in New Jersey and likes to keep his persona under wraps. On Facebook, his name is simply Tothian ApmhibiousKnight- He refuses to reveal his real name- and his burred picture shows a man with close-cropped hair, wearing what appears to be armor or a bulletproof vest. “I’ve been patrolling since I was about five years old,” Tothian says. “I knew form as early on in life as I can remember that I would be doing this, not as a game,” he adds. “When I was sixteen I graduated from a military high school. At seventeen I joined the Marine Reserves as an Infantryman. I’ve trained in various styles of martial arts for many years. I study criminology, private investigating and foreign languages.” Now Tothian, an ardent fan of Sherlock Holmes, patrols his local streets, striving to mitigate crime in hotspots like Newark, New Jersey. “I make it a point to never set patterns in times nor patrol routs,” Tothian says. “I have to keep it randomized for two reasons: One I don’t want people to work around my pattern. Two, I don’t want people to track me down.”
Tothian, naturally, takes the concept of being a superhero extremely seriously and was wary of the conference. His wariness, in turn lead a number of attendees to cancel their trips, including the emcee of the event, one of the oldest heroes around, dubbed, simply, Superhero. “We didn’t know them too well yet, nor what to expect,” Tothian explains. “But after we all got to know [Ben and Chaim] we saw that they’re great guys with sincere intentions and actually want to do something good for the world.”
Regardless, back in 2007 Chaim was in a bind- he didn’t want to have a meeting without an official superhero emcee. But Chaim had dons his research- he knew about the different types of superheroes, the “community crusader” in particular. “A community crusader is somebody who is not necessarily in a costume but works from within the community to move forward the cause of real-life superheroeism” Chaim explains.
After the debacle with Tothian, Chaim went to Columbia Chabad to think. “I hadn’t slept at all the night before,” he says. “It was a totally crazy week and I was like, praying and wondering, ‘Who is gonna run this thing?’ Then I realized that all the sacrifices I had been making, the thousands of dollars of my own money, all of my time and life spent toward making this happened made ma a community crusader, and therefore a superhero. And therefore I could be the one to lead this meeting. Son on Sunday when we had the meet up in Times Square, that was when I put on the mask for the first time and claimed myself ‘Life.’”
Ben, in turn, became “The Camera Man.”
“My role in Superheroes Anonymous has always been documenting what the superheroes do,” he says. He doesn’t wear a costume, and he sees this whole project as wholly short-term. He doesn’t go on patrols like Life does, but he does accompany heroes like  The Dark Guardian, a swarthy New Yorker who dresses in head-to-toe leather, when they set out on missions to Washington Square Part to take on drug dealers. Although he denies being a hero, guys like The Dark Guardian would be seriously screwed without Ben around- the fact that he wields a camera helps keep criminals in check, proving that you don’t need freezrays or super strength to fight evil.
Life’s own arsenal is rather limited as well, He carries a cell phone, a pocket knight and a backpack filled with water bottles, military-issue meals and ready to eat, granola bars, socks and whatever else he can scrape together for the homeless he tends to . After parting ways with Jowls and Comb Tracks at the abandoned building, Life takes off down the sidewalk, passing houses wreathed in blinking colored lights to stock up at the local RiteAid. He picks up a coupon book and surveys the deals under the deals under the glare of the florescent lights. “This is where my cheap Jewness comes in,” he says with a laugh, trying to decide between Rice Krispie Treats (cheaper, but less nutritionous) and granola bars. But Chaim isn’t being cheap, per se. He’s a recent college grad who makes a small wage working for the Ripple Project, a documentary film company that focuses on social issues. But being the child of a rabbit, Life was taught to give ten percent of his earnings to charity. At the register, he checks over the receipt with the same precision as a fussy mother, but then grabs a handful of chocolate to add it the finally tally. “I love giving people chocolate because they appreciate it. No one else gives them chocolates,” he says.
Outside in the cold again, Life passes a gaggle of college kids on winter break, decked out in hats and puffy jackets, “I was so fucking wasted last weekend,” a girl squeals as she disappears down the concrete while Life heads to St. John the Divine to pass out supplies to the homeless who huddle on the steps. This is one of his usual haunts, and he tried to get there before the Coalition for the Homeless arrives with boxed meals- usually the homeless scatter after the trucks roll away. But when he arrives he sees he’s too late. The Coalition for the Homeless have come and gone and the poor have likely been shooed away. All that greets him when he arrives are granite steps blanketed in snow and ropes stretching across the stairs. “Those assholes,” he mutters, nothing that the ropes were likely put in place to discourage the homeless from hanging out on the steps.
Back in the summer time, the church was like a regular homeless clubhouse, but right now it’s too cold for anyone to linger outside for long. The homeless are all in shelters or are hiding out somewhere in the darkness. Back in August Chaim had tramped down to St. John’s every week- since graduating, he’s been sorting his life out, moving to Harlem and setting up Superheroes Anonymous headquarters (a.k.a. his apartment). Last summer he had leapt up the stairs distributing vitamins and shampoo to a man named John, who wore a giraffe T-shirt and leaned heavily on a cane. Tonight John isn’t here. “I thought at least the Mexicans would be here,” Life says with a sigh.
The Mexicans usually assemble in the front doorway, huddled together under the granite saints that stare out into the darkness like blank-eyed sentinels. The men are likely here illegally and, as they told Chaim, they have “No worky. No casa. Lots of Mexicans. It’s bad.” This summer they have taught Chaim how to say razor (navaja) and toothbrush (cepillo dental) in Spanish. Chaim had asked where their friend Edguardo was and a man wearing a shirt emblazoned with mountain ranges- the kind of souvenir sweatshirt that you buy on vacation- had pointed up at the saints and uttered, “Jesus.”
“Jesus loves me?” Chaim asked, seeming to misunderstand the sentiment. It’s impossible to tell how many streets have unwittingly become graves.

Tonight, however, the streets seem free of the homeless. Life wanders past another church covered in blue twinkle lights. He sing-songs in the night jokingly, like the Pied Piper, “Heeere, homeless people. Oh, Hooooomelss people…”
“I have homeless vision,” he says. Just then he sees John, leaning on his cane across from the church. Chaim approaches the old man, shivering on the sidewalk, while college students stream by taking care to make a wide arc around him. Life presents John with handwarmers, a bottle of water and cigarettes. “Is there anything else you need?” Chaim asked. John whispers in a voice barely audible above the cutting wind, “Long underwear.”
“People always ask me how I know what to bring,” Chaim says, taking off once more across the nighttime streets. “I didn’t offer John a grain bar because he has bad teeth. But people tell you what they need. How would I know he needed long underwear if he didn’t tell me?”
And that’s one of Chaim’s greatest powers: He listens. He talked to people whom everyone avoids. The true Mr. and Mrs. Cellophanes. Chaim stops to talk to them all. IN the grand scheme of things, his actions are small- he won’t be clearing New York’s streets of the poor anytime soon, nor will he eradicate poverty and hunger. But he has no illusions in that regard. Life wants to start a movement- to inspire others to do as he does. And that’s the true purpose of Superheroes Anonymous. Chaim has taken a disparate group of misfits and rebels and given them a singular vision- shaping them into a symbol for doing good.
The night is wearing on toward midnight when Life hears a thin whine rising from a huddled mass in front of a corner bank. “I’m so cold!” squeals a man supported by a walker and little else. His pant leg is rolled up far above the knee and he’s shaking violently. “My leg is broken! I haven’t eating in three days!” the main cries as people walk briskly by him, staring steadfastly ahead. Life strides right up to him, “Here, take theses,” Life says, pressing a pack of handwarmers into the man’s shaking palms. Quickly, he hands the man water, cigarettes and the coveted chocolate. The man’s shaking continues, his voice rising in agony,” My hands are so cold.”
A woman pauses on the sidewalk, wrapped in a warm-looking black peacoat with a tailored collar. She notices Life and the man on the sidewalk- the water bottles and the chocolate. She steps forward and stuffs a handful of dollar bills into the man’s shaking cup.

Originally posted in Death + Taxes Magainze MarchApril 2010 issue
Scanned pages:

Missing page 3- Admin
By Breena Ehrlich
Hollywood abounds with stories these days. But somewhere out there just beyond the shadows, from New York City to Mexico City to New Bedford, Massachusetts, lurks a bona fide, HONEST TO GOD NETWORK OF REAL REAL –LIFE SUPERHEROES. They are not Watchmen. They are not even Kick-Ass or Red Mist. No bullet-proof vest, no Chinese stars. These are normal people- students, bankers, what have you. They just happen to patrol over society in costume, fighting crime and doing good deeds under aliases like Life and The Dark Guardian. They are Superheroes Anonymous. For real.
What’s going on here?” Life asks, ambling up to a pair of cops as they peer though the dusty glass doors of a seemingly abandoned building. The copes turn around, take in the young man’s young face; he looks like one of the Culkin brothers- like that kind from Igby Goes Down. The kid’s fedora is set at a jaunty angle, his black cargo pants are tucked into black jungle boots, his backpack weighs down his shoulders, even though they’re thrown back confidently. He looks like a Brooklyn-dweller. A college student. A kid. Perhaps a nosy kid, the kind that watched too many cops shows as a kid. They probably don’t notice the black mask hanging from his belt loop, or the tzitzis poking out the bottom of his black winter coat.
One of the cops, a jowly man with buzzed hair and a gently swelling belly, gives Life a slight smile. “WE got a call. Some woman can’t get a hold of her husband who’s a security guard. She says she works here, but this place seems abandoned,” he answers with surprising candor and a perfectly stereotypical New York Accent.
“Yeah,” says the other cop, running his hand over his slicked-back gray hair, which still has comb tracks in it from earlier grooming. “I mean, there’s tap on the windows. That means it’s abandoned, right?”
The copes continue to peer though the darkened windows as Life jumps down to inspect a basement-level door. The radios on their belts buzz and crackle: “The missing child is approximately four feet tall, wearing a striped sweater. The suspect-“ Life joins the copes on the steps in mutual consideration of the darkened building, a gray stone apartment building near the Columbia University campus- close enough to Riverside Park that the assemblage can feel the cold air off the water buffeting their backs and faces. The jowly cop’s cheeks are red.
The men in blue bang on the door a few times and then turn to Life with equally stern brows. “Stand back,” says the gray haired cop and positions his shoulders as if to break the door down. Life hops back a little and the cops laugh. “Just Kidding,” Comb Tracks says.
“So are you a student?” Jowls inquires, apparently in no hurry to solve the mystery of the missing security guard.
“No, actually I’m a Real-Life Superhero, Life says with a slight smile, fingering the mask that hangs from his side. The cops look at each other with raised eyebrows and more than a hint of amusement.
“Oh yeah? Well, can you tell us where Columbia security is?” Jowls says with a brief smile. “Maybe they can help us figure out where this guard is
Life gives them directions and follows them to their car,” I can get in and go with you guys if you’d like…” he says, lingering near the cruiser.
“Ha, ha, nah,” says Jowls. “Thanks.” The cops drive off into the night, leaving Life and his backpack in front of the darkened building.
With the squad car disappears the glimmer of danger, the opportunity to race off in the night, the blue and red flashing. In a movie or a comic book this would be the point where our hero’s story really heats up: He discovers that the mission guard has been captured by an evil avenger with a rampant disdain for any and all authority figures- and now the poor old man is being held hostage in some fortress in the dark recesses of Governor’s Island. And because the bumbling cops neglected to adequately hunt for clues our hero is tasked with his safe return. But this is not a move. This is no adaptation- just plain old New York.  IN the realm of the real, Life watched the cruiser disappears into the night, sighs a puff of cold-etched air, and jaywalks across the street. As he hops from the sidewalk, his boots clearing the curb, he indulges a brief exclamation: “Zing!”
LIFE A.K.A. CHAIM LAZAROS is a real-life superhero- designation that would likely cause many a reader to snort in derision or laugh in abject mockery. Visions of plump, sad comic book fans in spandex leap to mind- images of computer geeks wandering around darkened streets, desperately seeking some nefarious B-level crime to debunk. That’s not Life. Life is a do-gooder. He doesn’t fight crime per se– he takes to the streets and provides aid to the poor souls who many of us outright ignore: the homeless.
In a sense, this is his superpower. Where comic superheroes might manifest their powers through a supernatural affinity for controlling the weather or assuming arachnid capabilities, Life’s chosen specialty is the homeless- although he’s the first to admit that he doesn’t actually have any special abilities. “I hate when people ask where my cape is,” Life says. “Capes are stupid and ineffective. No one flies… I don’t have any super powers,” he adds. “I’m just a person. A poor, young person in New York City- and I help a lot of people. I’m not special.” Nevertheless, as his name suggests, Life provides sustenance and, well, life, to the downtrodden, specializing in a particular realm of aid- and to do so he tapes into his two natural abilities: kindness and an aptitude for spin. Life is a natural PR man, an organizer who uses the aesthetic of the super hero, the sheer flashiness of the concept, to attract others to his cause.

Life is one of the heads of Superheroes Anonymous, a collective of citizen who have made it their mission to do good by the world. Some do it in much the same way as Coalition for the Homeless or Habitat for Humanity, and some do it with the more dangerous, risky flair of vigalantes- but they all do it in costume. Each year it holds a sizable conference during which heroes from all over the world assemble. So far there have been three conferences: one in Times Square, New York City, one in New Orleans, and the most recent in New Bedford, Massachusetts, also known as The Secret City due to its large volume of unsolved homicides.
Superheroes Anonymous, which coalesced into its current state in 2007, hardly marks the first incarnation of real-life superhero-dom, although it is probably the most organized superhero affiliation. According to a history written by Hardwire, a hero from Greensboro, North Carolina, the first real-life superhero date back to the seventeenth century- his name was William Lamport, or Zorro. The modern ideal of real-life heroes started to solidify in the seventies with Captain Sticky, a man by the name of Richard Pesta who would patrol San Diego in a bubble-topped Lincoln clad in blue tights and a cape, working to launch investigations into elder care. And then there was Rick Rojatt, a daredevil known as The Human Fly, whose entire family was killed in a car crash that left him temporarily crippled. The nineties heralded the arrival of Marco Rascon Cordova, a Mexico City resident who became Superbarrio and championed the poor and working class, and Terrifica, a New Yorker who took it upon herself to protect drunken women from unwanted advances. And then there’s Civitron, a father and former counselor for children in transition who patrols New Bedford, Massachusetts with his son, The Mad Owl, a superhero-in-the-making with a love for woodland creatures.
In short, this underground community was flourishing, the network reaching across the world. But it was a fractured connection; these do-gooders mostly communicated via Internet forums and MySpace pages, connected only through the currents of the digital age- until Life came along.
Like all superheroes, life has his own creation myth, which more closely mirrors that of the famed comic book authors that of yore than the apocryphal tales of Clark Kent or Bruce Wayne. Like the majority of old-school creators- immigrants and children of immigrants who invented heroes to battle the myriad woes of their woes- Lazaros is a Jew, the son of an Orthodox rabbi who has seven children in all. The second –oldest child, Lazaros is kind of the black sheet. “He’s a very idealistic kid and he has a lot of pity on people that are downtrodden and homeless. He’s a do-gooder and he wants to do go,” his father says, recalling how, as a child, Life took on his entire bunk at sleepaway camp when they were picking on smaller boy.  Still, he hasn’t quite taken the path that his father would like him to.” I thought it was more like a hobby,” his father says of Life’s superheroing. “But it became a very major part of his life. And obviously as a parent I think there are more important priorities. He’s just turned twenty-five. I’d like to see him get married. I’d like to see him have some kind of a vocation that earns a living. This is a nice thing to do on the side, you know, if you have another career. You have a family and you want to do something like this in your free time, that’s okay. But I don’t think it should be taking up the main part of your time.”
Before he became Life, Chaim was on a path that any proud Orthodox papa would approve of. He attended Yeshiva University- a college that focuses on Jewish scholarship- in New York for one year before deciding that he was too smart for the religious school. He also wanted to study film. He applied to NYU and got in (twice), but his family didn’t have the money to send him. So he left college and worked at one of the country’s top ad agencies, J Walter Thompson, where he executed the mindless task of paying invoices before realizing that he wasn’t going anywhere. He had been attending Brooklyn College at night and living in Crown Heights when his girlfriend suggested he apply to Columbia. He got in, they provided him with ample scholarships, and he was able to follow his chosen path: film studies. Little did he know that becoming a superhero would also be apart of his course of study.
Three years ago, Chaim’s friend Bend Goldman, a senior at New York’s New School, saw a sign reading “Real Life Superheroes” outside a comic book store. He was intrigued, so he Googled the term. The sign turned out to be an advertisement for a drawing class, but Goldman’s internet search revealed the rich history of the movement. Both film students, Lazaros and Goldman decided that the subject was ripe for documentation. “This whole project started off as a documentary,” Ben says. “It’s like a case of Gonzo Journalism where the documentarian becomes the subject, especially with Chaim, since he became a superhero through the project.”
“They’re very isolated in all these different communities and only communicate through MySpace and stuff like that,” Chaim says, “There had been a few very small meet-ups, but it was really this Internet culture. Basically we realized that if we made the first all-encompassing gathering of all the superheroes, then we would be able to shoot a documentary in a day.”
And so it began- the first meeting of Superheroes Anonymous. For Chaim, the convention became an all-consuming task. He barely slept. He lost fifteen pounds. He dedicated every moment to orchestrating a massive gathering to take place in New York’s Time Square. And then the duo hit a snag.
“There was a lot of this bullshit started by this one particular superhero that founded the biggest forum on the Internet for superheroes. He’s named Tothian,” Chaim says, “At the time he was respected just because he was a moderator of this forum he started.”
Tothian is a mysterious figure who resided in New Jersey and likes to keep his persona under wraps. On Facebook, his name is simply Tothian ApmhibiousKnight- He refuses to reveal his real name- and his burred picture shows a man with close-cropped hair, wearing what appears to be armor or a bulletproof vest. “I’ve been patrolling since I was about five years old,” Tothian says. “I knew form as early on in life as I can remember that I would be doing this, not as a game,” he adds. “When I was sixteen I graduated from a military high school. At seventeen I joined the Marine Reserves as an Infantryman. I’ve trained in various styles of martial arts for many years. I study criminology, private investigating and foreign languages.” Now Tothian, an ardent fan of Sherlock Holmes, patrols his local streets, striving to mitigate crime in hotspots like Newark, New Jersey. “I make it a point to never set patterns in times nor patrol routs,” Tothian says. “I have to keep it randomized for two reasons: One I don’t want people to work around my pattern. Two, I don’t want people to track me down.”

Tothian, naturally, takes the concept of being a superhero extremely seriously and was wary of the conference. His wariness, in turn lead a number of attendees to cancel their trips, including the emcee of the event, one of the oldest heroes around, dubbed, simply, Superhero. “We didn’t know them too well yet, nor what to expect,” Tothian explains. “But after we all got to know [Ben and Chaim] we saw that they’re great guys with sincere intentions and actually want to do something good for the world.”
Regardless, back in 2007 Chaim was in a bind- he didn’t want to have a meeting without an official superhero emcee. But Chaim had dons his research- he knew about the different types of superheroes, the “community crusader” in particular. “A community crusader is somebody who is not necessarily in a costume but works from within the community to move forward the cause of real-life superheroeism” Chaim explains.
After the debacle with Tothian, Chaim went to Columbia Chabad to think. “I hadn’t slept at all the night before,” he says. “It was a totally crazy week and I was like, praying and wondering, ‘Who is gonna run this thing?’ Then I realized that all the sacrifices I had been making, the thousands of dollars of my own money, all of my time and life spent toward making this happened made ma a community crusader, and therefore a superhero. And therefore I could be the one to lead this meeting. Son on Sunday when we had the meet up in Times Square, that was when I put on the mask for the first time and claimed myself ‘Life.’”
Ben, in turn, became “The Camera Man.”
“My role in Superheroes Anonymous has always been documenting what the superheroes do,” he says. He doesn’t wear a costume, and he sees this whole project as wholly short-term. He doesn’t go on patrols like Life does, but he does accompany heroes like  The Dark Guardian, a swarthy New Yorker who dresses in head-to-toe leather, when they set out on missions to Washington Square Part to take on drug dealers. Although he denies being a hero, guys like The Dark Guardian would be seriously screwed without Ben around- the fact that he wields a camera helps keep criminals in check, proving that you don’t need freezrays or super strength to fight evil.
Life’s own arsenal is rather limited as well, He carries a cell phone, a pocket knight and a backpack filled with water bottles, military-issue meals and ready to eat, granola bars, socks and whatever else he can scrape together for the homeless he tends to . After parting ways with Jowls and Comb Tracks at the abandoned building, Life takes off down the sidewalk, passing houses wreathed in blinking colored lights to stock up at the local RiteAid. He picks up a coupon book and surveys the deals under the deals under the glare of the florescent lights. “This is where my cheap Jewness comes in,” he says with a laugh, trying to decide between Rice Krispie Treats (cheaper, but less nutritionous) and granola bars. But Chaim isn’t being cheap, per se. He’s a recent college grad who makes a small wage working for the Ripple Project, a documentary film company that focuses on social issues. But being the child of a rabbit, Life was taught to give ten percent of his earnings to charity. At the register, he checks over the receipt with the same precision as a fussy mother, but then grabs a handful of chocolate to add it the finally tally. “I love giving people chocolate because they appreciate it. No one else gives them chocolates,” he says.
Outside in the cold again, Life passes a gaggle of college kids on winter break, decked out in hats and puffy jackets, “I was so fucking wasted last weekend,” a girl squeals as she disappears down the concrete while Life heads to St. John the Divine to pass out supplies to the homeless who huddle on the steps. This is one of his usual haunts, and he tried to get there before the Coalition for the Homeless arrives with boxed meals- usually the homeless scatter after the trucks roll away. But when he arrives he sees he’s too late. The Coalition for the Homeless have come and gone and the poor have likely been shooed away. All that greets him when he arrives are granite steps blanketed in snow and ropes stretching across the stairs. “Those assholes,” he mutters, nothing that the ropes were likely put in place to discourage the homeless from hanging out on the steps.
Back in the summer time, the church was like a regular homeless clubhouse, but right now it’s too cold for anyone to linger outside for long. The homeless are all in shelters or are hiding out somewhere in the darkness. Back in August Chaim had tramped down to St. John’s every week- since graduating, he’s been sorting his life out, moving to Harlem and setting up Superheroes Anonymous headquarters (a.k.a. his apartment). Last summer he had leapt up the stairs distributing vitamins and shampoo to a man named John, who wore a giraffe T-shirt and leaned heavily on a cane. Tonight John isn’t here. “I thought at least the Mexicans would be here,” Life says with a sigh.
The Mexicans usually assemble in the front doorway, huddled together under the granite saints that stare out into the darkness like blank-eyed sentinels. The men are likely here illegally and, as they told Chaim, they have “No worky. No casa. Lots of Mexicans. It’s bad.” This summer they have taught Chaim how to say razor (navaja) and toothbrush (cepillo dental) in Spanish. Chaim had asked where their friend Edguardo was and a man wearing a shirt emblazoned with mountain ranges- the kind of souvenir sweatshirt that you buy on vacation- had pointed up at the saints and uttered, “Jesus.”
“Jesus loves me?” Chaim asked, seeming to misunderstand the sentiment. It’s impossible to tell how many streets have unwittingly become graves.

Tonight, however, the streets seem free of the homeless. Life wanders past another church covered in blue twinkle lights. He sing-songs in the night jokingly, like the Pied Piper, “Heeere, homeless people. Oh, Hooooomelss people…”
“I have homeless vision,” he says. Just then he sees John, leaning on his cane across from the church. Chaim approaches the old man, shivering on the sidewalk, while college students stream by taking care to make a wide arc around him. Life presents John with handwarmers, a bottle of water and cigarettes. “Is there anything else you need?” Chaim asked. John whispers in a voice barely audible above the cutting wind, “Long underwear.”
“People always ask me how I know what to bring,” Chaim says, taking off once more across the nighttime streets. “I didn’t offer John a grain bar because he has bad teeth. But people tell you what they need. How would I know he needed long underwear if he didn’t tell me?”
And that’s one of Chaim’s greatest powers: He listens. He talked to people whom everyone avoids. The true Mr. and Mrs. Cellophanes. Chaim stops to talk to them all. IN the grand scheme of things, his actions are small- he won’t be clearing New York’s streets of the poor anytime soon, nor will he eradicate poverty and hunger. But he has no illusions in that regard. Life wants to start a movement- to inspire others to do as he does. And that’s the true purpose of Superheroes Anonymous. Chaim has taken a disparate group of misfits and rebels and given them a singular vision- shaping them into a symbol for doing good.
The night is wearing on toward midnight when Life hears a thin whine rising from a huddled mass in front of a corner bank. “I’m so cold!” squeals a man supported by a walker and little else. His pant leg is rolled up far above the knee and he’s shaking violently. “My leg is broken! I haven’t eating in three days!” the main cries as people walk briskly by him, staring steadfastly ahead. Life strides right up to him, “Here, take theses,” Life says, pressing a pack of handwarmers into the man’s shaking palms. Quickly, he hands the man water, cigarettes and the coveted chocolate. The man’s shaking continues, his voice rising in agony,” My hands are so cold.”
A woman pauses on the sidewalk, wrapped in a warm-looking black peacoat with a tailored collar. She notices Life and the man on the sidewalk- the water bottles and the chocolate. She steps forward and stuffs a handful of dollar bills into the man’s shaking cup.