Tag New England

I first encountered Tea Krulo’s work in an article he wrote almost a year ago in The Boston Phoenix spotlighting Real Life Superheroes in New England. It didn’t take long for me to contact him and ask him to joinForces of Geek.Fortunately, he accepted and his column on both this site and his own, are fascinating looks at a real life phenomenon. Tea is currently using Kickstarter to help generate financial support for his book, Heroes In The Night and shared some details about the project with FOG!

What are real life superheroes?
Explaining what real life superheroes (RLSHs) are can be a complicated thing, since there are a number of different approaches. Generally speaking, they are people who invent their own costumed persona and then use that persona to do something in the real world- doing safety patrols looking for crime, detective work, charity events and fundraising, handing out supplies to the homeless, in general trying to do small scale superheroics to try to improve their neighborhoods.
I use the term “movement” because simply defined a movement is a “group of people working toward a common goal.” In this case the common goal is trying to improve quality of life by helping those in need.
Are these people crazy? Do they think they have superpowers?
Well, I think that the people who sit on their ass and watch TV all day and whine about how terrible everything is- those are the crazy people. I will admit I’ve run into some wild characters in the RLSH world, I don’t think anyone will deny they exist. There are a small few who claim to have some psychic, “magick,” or metaphysical capabilities. Every group has “crazy uncles” though, and the more interesting story to me was that most of these people are pretty normal, have regular jobs, families, are going to school, some are military, and they are fully aware that they are human beings and face the same limitations we all do.
What approach does your book take? How is it different than potential other books about real life superheroes being worked on?
My book, Heroes in the Night, is based on three strong points- research, extensive interviewing, and field work. I’ve tried to find people doing something similar to this as far back as I can, interviewed well over a hundred RLSHs and associates by phone and e-mail, and traveled to meet RLSHs in Minneapolis and Rochester, MN, New Bedford, MA, New York City, Seattle, WA, and Vancouver. I’ve also spent a lot of time with the local RLSHs here in my home town of Milwaukee, WI.

Although I do appear in the book to share in my adventures, I appear more as a narrator than a central character. For most of the book I remain objective- I am presenting these people’s stories and the reader will walk away with any number of impressions depending on how the story resonates with them personally. Some will probably shrug their shoulders and be apathetic, others will think it’s a joke, and I think some will start wondering what color spandex will look best on them.
Who are your favorite real life superheroes?
I don’t really have a favorite. Real life superheroes are like snowflakes- all unique in their own way. Everyone I’ve gotten to meet in person has been really great. I’ve spent the most time with my local RLSHs, The Watchman and Blackbird, patrolling my own neighborhood. I’ve had them over to my house many times and gotten to know them pretty well. I will continue to support them long after my book is on shelves. I’ve met about 25-30 RLSHs in person and my experiences with all of them have been good.
Is there such a thing as real life supervillains?
Ha! There are, but you don’t need to fear for your safety. I think it’s inevitable that not everyone is a RLSH fan, for whatever reasons, so “real life supervillains” began to appear, mocking the heroes online via blogs and YouTube videos. For some I think it is just goofing around making fun of people, others like to try and find hypocritical or unheroic behavior to attack them with.
I am in regular contact with some of them. I don’t always agree with what they say, but I don’t necessarily agree with everything heroes say either- in my experience surrounding yourself with people that only agree with you is very limiting.

Have you thought of becoming a real life superhero yourself?
Yes, indeed. I remember like ten years ago, a friend of mine was viciously mugged on her way to meet her friends at a bar. I had sort of a day dream of myself dressed up like Batman, jumping out of the shadows to save her. So I can see the appeal- creating a mysterious alter ego seems adventurous and fun. I think that is something these guys don’t mention always- it’s fun. I don’t really have the right abs to pull off spandex, but definitely I’ve found myself thinking “alright- this guy’s mask with this guy’s armor, maybe in a darker shade of blue…”
Why are you trying to raise money through Kickstarter?
I’d really like to do it myself and have creative control over it. I know enough qualified people to help me make it happen. There is a substantial amount of cost to make it happen the right way, so I decided to raise funds via the site Kickstarter. At one of the most basic levels this allows people to pre-order a signed copy of the book for $35 dollars, and other levels allow people to get a preview of the book and even a custom ordered mask of their own from Hero-Gear. Jack of Hero-Gear has designed countless RLSH masks and suits.
Being in control also lets me do whatever I want with the books and the money made on them. For instance, I have committed to donating a proceed of the books and related merchandise to charity.
You can find out more about the Kickstarter and preorder a book HERE!

Originally posted: http://www.sunjournal.com/city/story/844777
By Kathryn Skelton, Staff Writer
Her mom thought she was doing drugs, slipping out at night, wandering the streets.
Mom didn’t realize her little girl was actually busy atoning and avenging.
As the self-styled superhero “Dreizehn” (that’s the number 13 in German), she’d slip out and look for trouble, interrupting drug deals and vehicle break-ins. Think “Kick-Ass,” but in real life. Sometimes it worked, sometimes the teenager got beaten up, badly.
Dreizehn moved to Maine from a big city outside New England a few months ago to join her similarly self-styled superhero boyfriend, “Slapjack.” Several nights a week they walk Lewiston-Auburn for hours on end as roving Good Samaritans, looking for trouble.

The streets here? Much less mean, in her limited experience.
Most nights their foot patrol means giving bottled water and granola bars to the homeless and maybe yelling at a graffiti artist, all the while costumed and armed with batons, knife-proof protective wear and brass knuckles electrified with Tasers.
Dreizehn and Slapjack are in their 20s. Their parents? They still have no clue.
“You kind of have to be a little unstable to do it,” Dreizehn said. “Going out at 2 a.m. with a mask on and thinking you’re going to save the world, it says a lot about you.”
Origin stories
They got started for different reasons. About four years ago, Slapjack said he read an article in VIBE magazine on the Real Life Superheroes movement, a worldwide community, to which they now belong, of people who dress up, assume names and do varying degrees of charity work and criminal deterrence.
Close friends of Slapjack had their home broken into. Another was hit by a drunk driver, part of Slapjack’s motivation now to hang outside bars. He calls police to report plate numbers when he sees people that he suspects have had too much to drink get behind the wheel.
“I believe in civilian patrols. The police can only be so many places at once, especially at night,” Slapjack said. “I think it’s everyone’s responsibility to keep an eye on their communities.”
He picked his code name from a favorite card game played with his grandmother.
The younger Dreizehn has been going out longer, since 2003.

“I started out, really, just bored, and didn’t want to cause trouble,” she said.
In looking to thwart mischief, there was also an element of making amends for her brother.
“He was robbing and completely destroying our family through his actions,” Dreizehn said. “It made me want to do something so nobody had to go through the pain I had to.”
She dresses to add bulk to her frame — a compressed chest, a man’s trench, men’s boots. Sometimes, in her experience, just walking up to someone is enough to make them stop whatever it is they’re doing, mainly because she appears to be a 200-plus-pound man wearing a full black and red mask with sheer white fabric eye holes.
Once on patrol, Slapjack found an unconscious man collapsed in the middle of the street and dragged him to the side of the road, potentially saving him from being run over.
But it doesn’t always go swimmingly.
“I got hit by a car,” Dreizehn said. And once, in what she believed was a meth buy, “I got ahold of what they were dealing. I ended up really taking a beating. I had my mask taken off. I managed to crawl and bite my way out of it. I had a death grip on (the meth).”
She picked her code name as a nod to her German heritage.
Why the names at all if everything’s on the up and up?
Their reasons are threefold. First, they say they don’t want their workplaces or families finding out, then worrying, questioning or demanding they give it up. Second, the couple doesn’t want to be harassed; they are, occasionally, snitches. A superhero named “Shadow Hare” began showing his face around Cincinnati too much and “the city completely turned on him,” Dreizehn said.
Lastly, putting on the costume, and wearing the name, is like becoming someone else.
“Your fear goes away,” Slapjack said.
Added his girlfriend, Dreizehn: “I wanted to be able to put a mask on so I could be somebody greater and better.”
They met through the Real Life Superheroes group. There aren’t too many others in Maine. He can name two, “The Beetle” and “Mrs. The Beetle.”
Taking it to the street
They go out on foot patrol two or three nights a week, often between roughly 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. She likes walking both cities. He prefers Lewiston.
Dreizehn and Slapjack cover about 5 miles at a stretch, carrying food, water, note pads, flashlights, cameras, night-vision goggles and cell phones. Ninety to 95 percent of the time, they’re just two people out for a walk. Two costumed, very prepared people.
If and when it comes to it, she’s clearly the scrapper. He’s never gotten in a physical confrontation.
“You’re McGruff; I’m the Punisher,” Dreizehn teased, walking through Kennedy Park on a Tuesday night in May.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday tend to be busiest, with more people on the street.
“But you never know; crime never takes a day off,” Slapjack said.
He keeps a map at home synced up to the local police crime bulletins, looking for neighborhoods or streets with patterns and familiarizing himself with people wanted on warrants.
Lewiston police Lt. Mark Cornelio checked around the station — no one he spoke with was aware of a pair of costumes on the street.
“Without knowing what their crime-fighting (is), it would be tough to say whether we agree with it or disagree with it,” Cornelio said. “My thing, I would rather have people be good witnesses.”
There’s also a reason for official police training and the lessons that come with it, he said.
Dreizehn and Slapjack said they were inspired to make themselves known now because of the “Kick-Ass” movie.
It’s not as easy as it looks on the screen.
“It was a funny little movie,” Dreizehn said. “But it’s completely disillusioned. It’s nothing like we do.”

Originally posted: http://blogs.forward.com/the-shmooze/127378/
April 19, 2010, 6:30pm
By Shoshana Olidort
Chaim Lazaros is a real-life superhero. Several nights a week he transforms into an alterego named Life. Donning a black domino mask, fedora and skinny tie, he stuffs a backpack full of drinks and snacks, and patrols the streets of New York City while distributing the life-saving goods to the homeless.
Life, 25, is one of half dozen real-life superheroes in New York, and 250-300 worldwide. In 2007, he and Ben Goldman, 23 — who goes by the moniker Cameraman and who documents the superhero movement on a video camera — founded Superheroes Anonymous, an organization that provides support for the real-life superheroes who dress up in costumes and walk the streets, protecting the vulnerable and warding off crime.
Each superhero takes on a unique role. Chris Pollak “Dark Guardian,” 25, rallies against drug dealers in Washington Square Park, while Arjuna Ladino, 42, and Shanti Owen, 50 — an engaged pair of relationship counselors known collectively as the Transformational Warriors — dress up in patriotic spandex outfits and spread the word of love.
Life, who wears tzitzit and covers his head, says he draws on the Jewish values he was raised with — his parents are Chabad emissaries in Framingham, Mass. — while performing his superhero duties. As a peyes-sporting kid in a New England suburb, Life says he learned early on to be comfortable with “looking different” and with having people look to him as “a symbol of something.”
In addition to garnering publicity, the costumes that Life and his cohorts wear serve as a reminder. Each time he puts on his costume, says Life, “I have to say to myself now I’m a superhero, I have to have higher ideals… I’m not just Chaim.”
 

Originally posted at http://thephoenix.com/Boston/Life/94281-Super-friends/

Move over, Clark Kent. All over New England, mild-mannered citizens are suiting up and doing their part to play the hero.
By TEA KRULOS
THWAK! I swing with my right fist, trying to connect with my opponent’s face. In a smooth motion, he deflects my punch with his forearm, which is protected with a black and metallic-plastic arm gauntlet. I swing with my left fist, and am again knocked away effortlessly. I can see my reflection in his sunglasses, framed in white. He smiles and smoothes out his red and white spandex shirt — adorned with a letter “C,” a flame shooting out of the top — and then crouches into a fighting stance.
“Oh, no,” I think. “I’m about to get my ass kicked by a Lycra-wearing superhero.”
This non-caped crusader goes by the name of Civitron, and lucky for me, our combat is not a battle royale to the death. Rather, we are sparring at Rebelo’s Kenpo Karate, in New Bedford, where Civitron has trained under sensei Joseph “Kenpo Joe” Rebelo on and off for more than 10 years. We aren’t alone.
Twelve other “real-life superheroes,” striking and grappling, are crowded into the dojo for a martial-arts workshop led by Rebelo (who, despite his superhero-sounding last name, is not a member of this tribe). The heroes have flown in — by plane — from all over the country to take part in a three-day conference called “Superheroes Anonymous,” which is akin to a modern-day Justice League confab. They are wearing a multi-hued rainbow of spandex costumes, but there is also an emphasis on “real.” These aren’t the chiseled matinee-idol muscle men and women of the comics pages — more like the people with whom you ride the bus. Yes, some are athletic and tall, but some are short with pot bellies. It’s doubtful these heroes will put the fear of God into real-life hoodlums, let alone the Penguin or Dr. Octopus.
“We come in all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, and beliefs,” says Civitron. (In the tradition of protecting a superhero’s alter ego, these heroes agreed to speak with the Phoenix as long as we could assure them their secret identities would be safe.) There is Nyx, a curvy New Jersey woman, dressed in gray leotards with a red dust mask covering her lower face. She is sparring against Zimmer, who has just arrived from Austin. Zimmer, short and wiry, wears a spandex shirt, the binary code for the letter “Z” streaming down one side. Zetaman traveled from Portland, Oregon, with a suitcase full of bulky blue plastic armor (superheroes of other eras never had to get their costumes through airport security). Scavenger has on a black mask and corset; black plastic streamers hang from her arms. Her main focus, superhero-wise, is picking up litter in Waterbury, Connecticut, where she has traveled from with her friend, the mountainous Runebringer. He is wrapped in a large gray coat with runic characters decorating his chest.
A lifelong superhero fan, Rebelo, 48, is clearly relishing his surreal position as instructor to a class whose students look as if they had stepped out of a stack of his comic books. As he yells out instructions, his colorful combatants block and counter strike, a Roy Lichtenstein–like comic panel of goggles, masks, combat boots, homemade utility belts, and capes come to life.
After training for a few days in the superhero arts, these mortals will return home and watch over their cities — maybe in a neighborhood near you.
Superheroes in real life
The real-life superhero (RLSH) scene is, believe it or not, a growing movement of people who adopt a superhero persona of their own creation, then perform small-scale heroic deeds, such as donating to charities or watching their streets for criminal behavior. Some can acquit themselves admirably in the fighting arena, whereas others make do by carrying pepper spray and Tasers, but most stress that their best weapon is a cell phone to call the police.
If the image of mere mortals walking the streets in homemade costumes is strange, consider that our vicarious culture has increasingly catered to our fantasy lives. We’re assuming the lives of rock stars, soldiers, and athletes in video games, and immersing ourselves completely in characters created in World of Warcraft, Second Life, and other online role-playing games. We watch artificial realities on TV, and read celebrity blogs on MySpace and Twitter.
Combine this with the grand American tradition of the superhero comic book, which took its first BAM! and POW! steps into the pop-culture pantheon more than 70 years ago. In the last several years, the Spider-Man, X-Men, and Batman franchises, among others, have smashed box-office records like the Hulk on a rampage. Add to that hit TV shows like Heroes and the popularity of graphic novels, and it’s easy to see the yearning of your everyday Clark Kent to be something, well, more super.
The spreading of the RLSH philosophy has been as simple as a click of the mouse. Internet chat rooms and YouTube videos connected new superheroes from city to city. Inevitably, regionalized teams formed and events like Superheroes Anonymous were set up so that like-minded heroes could meet, mask to mask.
First-time filmmakers Ben Goldman and Chaim Lazaros founded the annual conference three years ago, to capture heroes uniting to work together in New York City, with additional footage shot the next year in New Orleans. (Their documentary is currently in post-production.) Civitron volunteered to host this year’s conference in the “Secret City” of New Bedford. (Not exactly the Fortress of Solitude, but it will do in a pinch.)
Originally a premise to get quirky, compelling footage, Superheroes Anonymous has evolved. Besides the annual conference, it has recently been rethought of as a nonprofit organization, with chapters in New Bedford; New York; Raleigh, North Carolina; and Portland, Oregon.
“We’ve already met with lawyers to go over nonprofit paperwork,” says Civitron. “The funny thing is, they were really disappointed that they wouldn’t be representing crazy people who thought they had super powers.”

New England heroes
“New England has a long history of people looking for justice, and I think it’s been passed down generation to generation,” says Civitron, who was born in Boston and moved to New Bedford in sixth grade. He says the history, and even the East Coast’s Gotham City–like architecture, makes New England a great place to hang a superhero shingle.
Perhaps that’s why the region is damn near overrun with superheroes.
Recluse also calls New Bedford home. Clad in a studded rubber mask and a shirt with the white outline of a spider, he is a mysterious and elusive figure, true to his name. He does, however, agree to speak briefly with the Phoenix.
“When I first started,” recalls Recluse, “I was doing patrols in one of [New Bedford’s] worst neighborhoods, the South End. A lot of drug dealers, a lot of gangs, and I got injured doing that. . . . I thought it was like the comic books, apparently. I don’t know what I was thinking. I tried to stop three people from breaking into a house and I got thrown off the porch and landed on my shoulder, so I learned a lesson there.”
Since then, he says, he has taken a more careful approach, hitting the streets as a dynamic duo with a trained martial artist who calls himself Bushido (Japanese for “way of the warrior,” and the name of the moral code the samurai lived by). While combing the streets for crime, he wears street clothes — and a ballistics vest.
Recluse, too, has been donning plainclothes of late, “trying to observe and report more,” he says. “I knew Bushido way before I ever donned my Recluse mask; he saw what I was doing and he wanted to do it as well. We patrol from a vehicle with a video camera and only get involved if it’s an immediate danger to someone or someone’s property.”
Basilisk, inspired by Batman, cruises around the Taunton area. You’ll recognize him as the guy wearing a trench coat, goggles, a hood, and gloves. He met Civitron online, and the two now meet regularly to get coffee and discuss life, or to go look for wrongs to right.
Basilisk says he views himself as “a servant of the people. I take this goal very seriously,” he says. “Basically I want to be myself and I want to make a difference.”
If any bad dudes venture farther north, specifically in the Lewiston and Auburn area of Maine, they’ll be entering Slapjack’s turf. Slapjack says he first adopted his persona for the online role-playing game City of Heroes. But after hearing about other real-life superheroes, he decided it was time for his character to move from the virtual world to the real streets to watch for crime and help with charity work.
His look is inspired by the classic comic-noir hero The Shadow. They both wear a fedora and trench coat, and Slapjack has a mask with a spade and a diamond over the eyes. He sometimes carries metal-framed playing cards that can be tossed like throwing knives.
“Slapjack is the complete opposite of who I am,” he says, reflecting on his costumed persona. “I’m a really happy-go-lucky type of guy. I am very social and open, and Slapjack is like the darker personality. He is more secretive, more opinionated, he’s let his mind go and it really is like a Clark Kent/Superman or Bruce Wayne/Batman type of thing.”
There are numerous other heroes in the region. Among them: The Beetle of Portland, Maine, who couldn’t be reached for comment; someone calling themselves “Samaritan” from Providence, who recently contacted Civitron, and said he had been walking his beat for the last couple years, unaware of the larger RLSH movement; and the retired Ms. Kismet of New Bedford, whose MySpace page notes that “I carry a backpack, which hold[s] a great number of useful superhero things, like . . . alcohol-based hand sanitizer (it does the trick without promoting bacteria resistance).”
Instrument of the people
Civitron’s heroic name comes from the Roman civi (of the people) and the Greek suffix tron (instrument), and describes how he sees himself. He is of Puerto Rican and Italian decent, with the build of a runner and someone who takes his martial-arts training seriously.
“Something I say all the time is that I’m not really Civitron alone,” he tells me later by phone, as he watches over his neighborhood. “Civitron is a creation of everybody in my life who helped me get to this point.”
This eclectic hero-forming collective includes Civitron’s mom, whom he credits with teaching him to be a strong person, but not a “tough guy.” “He’s always wanted to save the world,” she says.
Civitron’s partner, Jennifer, is also supportive of him. Their six-year-old son has even adopted his own superhero persona, Mad Owl, complete with a brown-and-gold owl costume.
But other than the father and son having secret identities, the three actually seem like a pretty normal family. Jennifer goes to school for biology. Civitron — who has a very warm, Zen-like personality, almost constantly smiling — has worked as a counselor, and currently is involved with a day program for autistic patients.
Whereas many comic-book superheroes are reviled in their communities, Civitron has legions of fans. They include the former RLSH Green Sage, a friend from New Bedford who has retired his own hero costume but still supports Civitron’s efforts, and Tem Blessed, a positive-message rapper from Providence who has collaborated with Civitron on a food drive. The two plan to work on projects together in the future.
Civitron says his first meeting with his sensei, Rebelo, was in a comic-book store. Rebelo is proud of Civitron and his colleagues.
“His actions make others aware that they can act heroically, too,” says Rebelo. “Helping a food pantry, picking up litter, distributing food and clothes to the poor — these are actions that so many people have given up on. You hear so much about not being a snitch, about not getting involved. There’s a famous quote from Charles Barkley, ‘I’m not a role model.’ Civitron is saying the opposite of all that — that he is a role model. He wants to be involved and do something positive.”
Don’t expect the New Bedford Police Department to build a bat-signal anytime soon, though.
“We prefer to be the only costumed crime fighters out there,” says Lieutenant Jeffrey Silva, a police spokesman. He says the department is aware of real-life superheroes, but they have yet to cross paths with them.
“Although they might be well-intentioned, we don’t endorse citizen patrols, because we don’t know the level of training,” says Silva. Even so, he concedes that any help to police is welcome.
“Anytime someone wants to get involved and help police, we see it as a good thing, so long as they don’t work without police participation. We prefer people to be the eyes and ears of the police.”
But what about the strange costumes?
“Well, fortunately, we’re not the fashion police,” states Silva.
So what is the payoff for dressing as a superhero and running through dark and dangerous alleyways in the moonlight? Slapjack says that the realization that he is trying to do something positive is his reward.
“Knowing that you are going out there and being proactive and helping makes you feel good about accomplishing something,” says Slapjack. “My father always said, ‘No matter how bad your life, no matter how hard, there is always someone a lot worse off than you are.’ I always took that to heart, and use that as motivation to be better and do good.”
“I just see myself as someone trying to make things better,” agrees Recluse, “and I hope that people see me as that.” As for Civitron, he says being a father is a reason he wants to make the world a better place.
“I’ll be satisfied in the end if I’m just perceived as doing my part,” he says, “contributing to society and making my community better. I like being real and living my truth.”
For more information, visit the Web sites superheroesanonymous.com and reallifesuperheroes.org. Tea Krulos is a freelance writer from Milwaukee. He can be reached at [email protected].

By Michelle Stockman (AFP)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0jvOAXBNUg
NEW BEDFORD, Massachusetts — Inside a hotel room in this New England port city, a superhero assumed his disguise before hitting the street.
Dressed in a black fedora, white shirt with skinny black necktie, and a studded belt, 24-year-old Chaim “Life” Lazaros looks like any other hipster from New York City. Except for his black mask.
In real-life he’s a radio personality at a college radio station, but in superhero mode, Lazaros spends his time comforting homeless people.
And his eye-catching uniform helps his cause.
“You will get stares, questions on the street from people who are interested and curious,” Lazaros said.
“They are always inspired. I got emails from soldiers in Iraq saying ‘It’s so inspiring to me to see people back at home helping each other.'”
Three years ago, Lazaros and Ben Goldman, a documentary filmmaker, created “Superheroes Anonymous,” an organized group of real-life superheroes.
Lazaros said there are now roughly 200 fellow superheroes across the country — costumed civilians who patrol the streets behind self-made superhero personas.
Their missions are varied, from conducting homeless and sex worker outreach and picking up litter to looking out for crime and teaching first aid skills.
In early September, about 20 members gathered in New Bedford from across the country for a three-day event that included a hip hop concert, beach clean-up and workshops on how to disarm an enemy.
“Scavenger,” a 28-year-old social worker, stood outside a local coffee shop during a break.
Dressed in a velvet bustier and black tassled bodysock, the tight spandex revealed only her eyes. She said crows and vultures inspired her costume, as they are the recyclers of nature.
“They clean up and they use things to live. So I take garbage off the street,” Scavenger said, explaining that money she earns from picking up litter goes to buying things for homeless people.
At home, Mike “KnightOwl” Johnson is a firefighter and emergency medical technician from Ohio.
This towering 26-year-old in a bright yellow jersey with an owl logo and a black head scarf said he became a superhero as another way to make a visible difference in the world.
“I think anyone who looks around will fastly realize there’s something seriously wrong with the direction that people are going in,” said Johnson.
“We try to reverse a little of that, and ease pain and suffering anyway possible.”
Toutou and Dave Marsden from nearby Walpole, Massachusetts were in town for a Sunday sightseeing tour. They dropped into a mask-making workshop with their two children.
“I think it’s great,” said Toutou, 34. “I think we should have everyday superheroes. I think it’s great that people are out there helping out.”
In their effort to do good, the superhero community may skirt the lines of safety.
Lazaros said he and other superheroes confront drug dealers, armed only with a camera.
On the “Superheroes Anonymous” blog, writers describe how to construct a practical crime-fighting costume — including a bullet proof vest.
It also suggests strategies to win over the local authorities, suggesting, for example, that on Halloween you pay an initial visit in costume to the local Wal-Mart. Repeat often thereafter so people get used to a superhero presence.
Dressed in a burgundy and orange jumpsuit and white-framed sunglasses, New Bedford local David “Civitron” Civatarese, 28, said despite their odd appearance, superheroes have simple, altruistic motives.
“I’m sure not many people are going to take Civitron himself very seriously,” said Civatarese.
“But once I start talking about the things that we’re doing, whether that’s helping out the homeless, helping out families in need, or just cleaning up the streets, they start to think about how can they help out whether they want to put on a costume or not.”
Copyright © 2009 AFP. All rights reserved. More »
http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5jAGw2e6LKfNag93q3ZPt3mzQusIA