Lawyers, doctors, bloodsuckers: The real vampires of New York City…and their fangsmith
On a summer Sunday just after 10 p.m., Madame X, a bar on New York City’s buzzing Houston Street, is crowded. The patrons aren’t residents from the bar’s trendy West Village neighborhood. Or at least they don’t look like it. They’re leather-clad men and red-haired women sporting metal headdresses and full-finger armor rings. They sip on drinks with names such as Indecent Proposal and Pussy Galore and whisper amongst themselves. With worn-down velvet on the walls and lingering sickly aromas from weekends past, the place feels like a tired burlesque joint.
“It’s like a religion,” the bartender explains, gesturing to the cult of bargoers behind him.
He’s talking about the men and women of the Court of Lazarus, New York City’s largest vampire community. The court counts as members over 1,000 “citizens.” The citizens are nothing like the vampires of Twilight, or True Blood, or those of some twisted blood-sucking alternative reality. They’re average New Yorkers with traditional day jobs. And while many of them have special community names, like Valerus and Crucifane, most consider their court identities to be only part-time.
Since members keep their meetings and their vampire lives private, it’s difficult to learn much about the court. While members advertise their monthly conclaves at Madame X on Facebook, and while their meetings are open to guests, you get the feeling that they’d prefer them to be vampires-only. Madame X’s event planner, who orchestrates all of the court’s meetings, says she’s never been to one herself.
If there’s one vampire who’s willing to dish about the real vampires of New York (which members of the community refer to as Gotham), it’s Merticus, editor of the Vampire Community News and active member of the Atlanta Vampire Alliance in Georgia. The Vampire Community News is a sort of “internal notification system” for vampire houses and courts across the country. Since Merticus is a kind of media advisor for the vampire community—who works actively to dispel rumors and provide statistics—he’s easy to reach over email.
“We believe it’s important to keep the lines of communication open despite any personal differences we may hold towards one another behind closed doors,” Merticus explains. “Many houses and groups come together at either monthly or yearly social functions such as Vampire Balls, Meetups, Goth/Nightclubs, Vampire Courts or other gatherings.”
There are personal differences within the vampire community nationwide, and even within regional vampire subcultures. Merticus is quick to dismiss the assumption that the vampire community is a united front, or a religion. Vampires “often have a pluralistic view of religion and spirituality,” he says, and many of them come into vampirism from religions such as Wicca, neo-paganism, occultism, shamanism and Christianity, among other sects. When asked about one New York City vampire, Steven Leighton, who manages an informational website called Vampirewebsite.net, Merticus sets the record straight. “Steve and Vampirewebsite.net are not credible sources of information concerning the vampire community,” he says over email. “There’s no such thing as a Vampire Retro-Virus V5, turning people into vampires, rings around the eyes and other fantasy nonsense… We do not identify with fictional characters, supernatural powers or immortality, nor do we have any difficulty distinguishing between fantasy and reality.”
Vampiric life isn’t the same throughout the country, obviously, and vampire outsiders and fakes exist everywhere. But it’s clear that being a vampire is more about community than it is some stereotypical dress code. This is especially true in New York City.
Naamah, a member of the court, moved to New York City from Texas to pursue a masters degree more than 10 years ago. Back in Texas, she was a member of the underground goth community, and she’s always been attracted to “dark currents.” She transitioned from goth life to vampirism when she moved, citing a need for something a little deeper and darker. What she found in the court was a second family—a home of like-minded individuals seeking powerful physical and spiritual connections.
Naamah used to hold two leadership positions in the court. At first she was Keeper of the Blood. Then she was elected Regent (or president) and served for more than five years. While she no longer has any official power beyond her emeritus-status, it’s immediately clear on first meeting that she still calls the shots. When a younger member of the community approached her at Madame X, he appeared frazzled, even nervous. “He’s a little scared of me,” she remarked jokingly.
She won’t disclose much about what the court does during its rituals, but from what it seems, the court functions like a dark literary society. Many members are passionate about the work of Voltaire, Poe, Kakfa and Blake. Their monthly non-denominational meetings feature musical and dramatic performances chosen by the court’s ruling council. They abide by the rules of the Pax Vampyri, a nationwide vampiric code. No weapons are allowed in conclave unless there will be a “special blade blessing ritual.”
Of course, members are united by more than just their literary flare. They feel at home with the court—and with other vampires more generally—because of the way they derive their bodily energy.
“While there are those who self-identify as vampires who adhere to the ‘vampire lifestyle’ (either through aesthetic or roleplay), such individuals are not synonymous with those who believe they must feed on psychic or life energies and/or blood to maintain their physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing,” Merticus explains. “Without feeding, a vampire will become lethargic, sickly, depressed and often go through physical suffering or discomfort.”
There are three different categories of vampire. Psychic vampires get their energy by channeling a mental force from another person. Sanguinarian vampires participate in blood feedings. Hybrid or Eclectic/Adaptive vampires, which account for about half of all vampires nationwide, do a combination of the two. But feeding isn’t like the feeding you see on screen. It’s private and consensual. And when it comes to blood feeding, it has to be. Naamah identifies the obvious health and safety concerns surrounding blood feeding. In New York City, she says, blood feeding tends to be done between partners in monogamous relationships, and in the privacy of a couple’s home.
Being a vampire in New York City is all about balance. Naamah has two email addresses, two Facebook profiles and two sets of friends. Only her “nearest and dearest” know about both her day job and her second skin. “We have a weird side, but we’re cool with it,” she says of her core group.
Perhaps the best example of practical N.Y.C. vampirism is Ra, an artist and fangsmith who was once a part of court life as a fang vendor. She’s one of five fangsmiths in the area, and the only woman. While Ra used to set up shop at court meetings, she currently works out of her home in a small New Jersey suburb.
Ra learned to make acrylic fangs in New York City, where she fell in with a man named Father Vincent, another fangsmith. She worked out of a fang shop called Transformatorium, formerly Sabretooth Emporium, on the Lower East Side. It was in the city that she found a group of similar people and quickly made friends with members of the court, including Naamah. “I wasn’t really the most popular girl in school,” she says. “So I wanted to find a niche where I was appreciated.”
But she soon learned that court life wasn’t for her. She spent hours making fangs for the community, and when she moved back to her family’s home in New Jersey, the commute was too exhausting. “It was just a question of scheduling—a timing issue,” she explains.
She also cites the highly structured nature of the court as the reason why she decided to break loose. “People started doing the politics and all that other jive and it wasn’t really part of what I was looking for,” she says. “I’ve always been a loner, so rolling with a group, whether it’s a house or court or anything like that, didn’t really go with my decor.”
Fangs, Ra explains, are just another functional aspect of vampire life. She personally wears them like jewelry, and says that they make her feel sexy. Generally speaking, members of the court rarely wear their fangs full-time. They tend to wear them in role-play situations. Like any dental work, fangs are all about style. “Sometimes with male clients there’s this inherent notion of, you know, ‘bigger is better,’” Ra explains. “But I’m like ‘No, chicks aren’t going to talk to you at a bar like that.’”
Ra’s relationship with the court is proof that vampire life is personal. While membership in the court is a lifetime commitment, it isn’t a commitment that dictates every member’s social life or friendships. Many people come to their first meeting with a boyfriend or girlfriend and stay long after a break-up. Potential new citizens participate in meetings for three to six months, after which the ruling members of the court vote on their membership. Like any club or group, the court is a social outlet—not the be all and end all of one’s identity.
“A lot of people think that because I do this, that means I have bats in my room, that it’s painted black, or maybe an exotic grey,” Ra says of her fang making. Many members of the Court share her sentiment. “But no. I just make things for people and I appreciate the fact that it means so much to folks. One way or another you’re kind of in the business of making smiles.”
