Tag Columbia University

Originally posted: http://www.good.is/post/picture-show-real-life-super-heroes/
By Patrick James

In the real world, no man can outrace a bullet. No woman commands storms with her mind. No one spins webs from his wrists or flies across continents or shoots lasers from his eyes. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t super heroes among us. Inside every human is the capacity to do something kind, brave, and strong for our fellow humans; some among us simply choose to do so in secret. In the spirit of the heroes who fill the pages of comic books, an unlikely assortment of men and women have been donning masks and costumes, and venturing into their respective neighborhoods to feed the hungry, comfort the sick, and protect the innocent.
The Real Life Super Hero Project is the photographer Peter Tangen’s attempt to document the work of these loosely affiliated individuals; it’s also a gallery exhibit designed to raise money for the causes with which these men and women are affiliated. Highlighting the people who do good under the secrecy of masks with no hope for personal gain, the Real Life Super Hero Project is a call for all of us to engage with and help those around us.
“Celebrate and honor them,” says Tangen. “And find the hero in all of us.”

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
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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.

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.

BY Simone Weichselbaum

DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER

Spiderman has his web and Superman has X-ray vision, but New York‘s real life superheroes just have some sandwiches – and a whole lotta heart.

Costumed street watchers “Life,” “Dark Guardian” and a slew of other comic-bookish men and women patrol the city chatting up people of the night.

Even though cops argue superheroes belong in the movies and not on the streets, “Life” and his odd-looking crew hand out food to the homeless and assure the mentally ill they still matter in a town famous for its arrogance.

“I am selfish, it makes me feel good” said Chaim “Life” Lazaros, 24, a Columbia University film student who co-founded Superheroes Anonymous – a support network that started off as folks connecting on MySpace.

At midnight Thursday, a dozen of the New York contingent will celebrate the group’s second anniversary by taking a plane down to New Orleans.

Big Easy Mayor Ray Nagin will dub Oct. 13 “Day of the Superheroes,” inviting similar-minded caped crusaders from across the U.S. to promote peace and love, a mayoral spokeswoman said.

Still, New York cops weren’t too thrilled to hear about men in tights walking around looking for trouble.

An officer who recently went on patrol with “Life” in Morningside Heights watched as thankful homeless took snacks from the superhero but worried that the masked man couldn’t protect himself, or anyone, from real danger.

“A lot of people were laughing at him,” the officer said. “His only real weapon is a cell phone with 911 on speed dial.”

Batman didn’t need Gotham’s Finest for back up, and real life superheroes argue they have the right to watch the streets without ticking off cops, too.

“They should be happy we are out there,” said Chris “Dark Guardian” Pollak, 24, a Staten Island martial arts teacher by day.

“We expect people to report crime to the police and not put themselves in jeopardy,” NYPD spokesman Deputy Police Commissioner Paul Browne said.

“We are not doing their job. We are helping them do their job,” he said.

Fans agree: A homeless woman sleeping on a Riverside Drive bench early Tuesday woke up to a pile of snacks left by “Life” and his posse.

“They are going to be blessed,” she said.

[email protected]

By TRYMAINE LEE