As official hostess to the unmarried president of South Vietnam—her brother-in-law, Ngo Dinh Diem—Madame Nhu was anything but diplomatic. She was known for threatening Diem’s aides, allies, and critics; referring to the public self-immolations of Buddhist monks as “barbecues;” and wasn’t shy about pointing a gun around. While American soldiers and journalists called her “The Dragon Lady” because of her resemblance to the villain in the comic strip “Terry and the Pirates,” Madame Nhu wasn’t all bad. For example, after winning a seat in the National Assembly in 1956, she pushed through measures that increased women’s rights. Below are more instances of this complex and complicated character’s awesomeness:

• She resisted an arranged marriage, choosing instead to marry Ngo Dinh Nhu, who would eventually become the chief political adviser to his brother and head of the secret police and special forces.

• Petite and glamorous, she made the form-fitting ao dai her signature outfit, modifying the national dress with a low-cut neckline. When President Diem questioned the modesty of her dress, she snapped back: “It’s not your neck that sticks out, it’s mine.” Over stepping her bounds more than once, she was eventually exiled to a convent in Hong Kong. However, the president soon reconsidered and brought her back.

• After overhearing the head of the army, Gen. Nguyen Van Hinh, brag that he would overthrow the president and make her his mistress, Madame Nhu confronted him at a Saigon party. “You are never going to overthrow this government because you don’t have the guts,” she told him “And if you do overthrow it, you will never have me because I will claw your throat out first.”

• She survived being held hostage for four months by communist troops, an air-raid on the presidential palace, in which she fell through a bomb hole in her bedroom to the basement two floors below, and the coup d’état that killed her brother-in-law and husband.

For more on Madame Nhu and other amazing lives, buy The Obits: The New York Times Annual 2012, a new annual that collects the best of The New York Times obituaries from the previous year. And check back next week, for the final installment of Snippets of the Lives of the Incredibly Awesome.

As the leader of Swiss military intelligence, Albert Bachmann (aka Henry Peel or Black Hand) was regarded as a visionary by a select few and dismissed as paranoid by most. His belief in an imminent Soviet invasion of Switzerland led him to create a secret intelligence service unknown to his own government.  Further debriefing below:

Albert Bachmann, Swiss Spymaster

• After the 1968 Soviet takeover of Czechoslovakia, Bachmann co-wrote the “Civil Defense,” a worst-case scenario guide meant to prepare the Swiss against a possible invasion. 2.6 million copies were printed.

• Appointed to run Swiss intelligence in 1976, he created Project 26, a secret army of 2,000 resistance fighters trained to wage guerrilla warfare against Soviet troops.

• In the event of a Soviet invasion, Bachmann bought Liss Ard, a 200-acre estate near Cork, Ireland, to serve as a refuge and headquarters for an exiled Swiss state government.

For more about the life of this Swiss spymaster, read The Obits: The New York Times Annual 2012, a new annual that collects the best of The New York Times obituaries from the previous year. And check back next week, for another installment of Snippets of the Lives of the Incredibly Awesome.

Owsley Stanley, left, with Jerry Garcia in 1969

Owsley Stanley, who died this past March, produced what was said to be the finest LSD of the psychedelic ’60s, and was among the first to mass-produce the drug. Mr. Stanley is believed to have doled out at least a million doses of LSD in his heyday, possibly five million, to clients that included the Grateful Dead, the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, and Ken Kesey. Here are some of his other accomplishments:

• Mr. Stanely appears in the Encyclopedia Britannica article on LSD under the index term “Augustus Owsley Stanley III (American chemist).” The Oxford English Dictionary contains an entry for the noun “Owsley” as “an extremely potent, high-quality type of LSD.”

• The novelist Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters used his wares during the Acid Tests, later recorded in Tom Wolfe’s 1968 book The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test.

• The Grateful Dead’s former financial backer, LCD supplier, and sound engineer, Mr. Stanley was immortalized in the song “Alice D. Millionaire.”

• Along with artist Bob Thomas, he designed The Grateful Dead’s skull-and-lightning-bolt logo.

For more on Mr. Stanley (at one point, he was a professional ballet dancer) and other amazing lives, buy The Obits: The New York Times Annual 2012, a new annual that collects the best of The New York Times obituaries from the previous year. And check back next week, for another installment of Snippets of the Lives of the Incredibly Awesome. Until then, enjoy The Dead song inspired by the “Artisan of Acid” himself “Alice D. Millionaire”:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQybXHI2W-A[/youtube]

Don’t let the Palladian mansion, Eton education, or fondness for tweed (and stuffed animal ducks) fool you — Michael William Coplestone Dillon Onslow, the seventh Earl of Onslow, or Lord Onslow for short, was not your typical English Lord. Best known for publicly advocating purging hereditary peers from the British House of Lords, Lord Onslow also had the following under his blue blooded belt:

• His ancestors were cattle thieves who acquired titles through shady political dealings during and after the Renaissance.

• Lord Onslow continued a family tradition of parliamentary service begun in the 16th century. He was also the host of a BBC radio show for hip-hop and thrash metal.

• He once left an Ancient Roman stone testicle under his wife’s pillow as a present.

• While working as an underwriter for Lloyd’s of London, Lord Onslow once headed to work on the London Underground with his pet monkey. It escaped and had to be tracked down by the police.

For more on Lord Onslow’s remarkably unconventional life pick up The Obits: The New York Times Annual 2012,  a new annual that collects the best of The New York Times obituaries from the previous year. And check back next week, for another installment of Snippets of the Lives of the Incredibly Awesome.

Violet Cowden during World War II and in 2010.

This November, Workman Publishing will release The Obits, a new annual that collects the best of The New York Times obituaries from the previous year. The Obits Annual 2012 is a “who’s who” of some of the most intriguing people of the twentieth century, but not everyone featured is a household name. There’s Colonel Albert Bachmann, a Swiss spymaster, whose paranoid suspicion of a Soviet invasion of Switzerland led him to create a secret intelligence service unknown even to his own government; and Madame Nhu, the glamorous official hostess of South Vietnam, who—at a party no less—once threatened to claw out the throat of a general threatening a coup d’état.  In celebration of these and the other incredibly awesome lives that appear in The Obits, the Workman blog will briefly chronicle six fascinating figures over the next six weeks.  Today, discover some snippets from the incredibly awesome life of Violet Cowden, one of the first women to serve as a U.S. military pilot.

• When the United States entered World War II, Violet Cowden, a schoolteacher from Spearfish, South Dakota, asked to join the Civil Air Patrol. When she didn’t hear back, she joined the Women’s Flying Training Detachment, an early incarnation of what would become the Women Airforce Service Pilots—or, as they were to be known, the WASPS.

• Born in a sod house in South Dakota in 1916, she rode her bicycle six miles each way to a local airfield for her first flying lessons, eventually becoming a licensed pilot.

• Over the course of the war, Mrs. Cowden—who had to pay for own food and lodging and worked seven days a week—logged hundreds of thousands of miles transporting planes from factories to domestic airfields and costal debarkation points.

• Her P-51 Mustang, a single-seat fighter, was the love of her life.

For more on Violet Cowden and other amazing lives, pick up The Obits, available this November–and tune in next week for another edition of Lives of the Incredibly Awesome.

Hi again! It’s Jennifer, friendly intern and your eyes-and-ears into the Workman office. By now you’ve heard about my time in sales and at Algonquin Books. My next stop was the Workman editorial department.

I’ve had a great time sifting through “slush,” which is a colloquial publishing term for the unsolicited proposals sent in by people without agents. At first, I was armed with just the guideline that Workman does not accept fiction or memoirs (that’s the domain of Algonquin), so my “Maybe” pile soon towered above the “Yes” and “No” piles. However, after sitting down with one of the editors, who patiently pointed out the reasons why proposals would or would not be accepted, I gained a better understanding of what it takes to be published. It isn’t often that a proposal from slush is actually realized as a published title, and there are several reasons for that. For example, calendars, which I saw a lot of, usually do best when they already have a brand or book behind them. My Gift Sales boss has been talking about how popular LEGO: The Calendar is going to be; its success will be based on the timeless appeal of LEGOs.

That model of the Taj Mahal is made entirely of LEGO bricks.

The proposal also has to be well researched and backed with the proper credentials. Perhaps more importantly, the idea has to be original and innovative, and should not be too similar to titles Workman already publishes or is thinking about producing. There were some picture book proposals in the pile, but generally, the children’s books that Workman publishes are more than just picture books—they are machine-washable and “indestructible,” or interactive, or fun to touch; they are more than just a story. Submitters should take heart in knowing, however, that their proposals are not left to languish in a corner. Every proposal is looked at by a real person (and, no worries, not just an intern—proposals are screened after I look at them, too).

I’ve also done some fact-checking for 1,000 Places to See Before You Die and The Obits: The New York Times Annual 2012. For 1,000 Places, fact-checking has involved determining hotel rates with more calling (but fewer abrupt farewells, because hotel staff can’t really hang up on someone who might be a customer). Most people seemed unfazed by or indifferent to the fact that the hotels they work at are being featured in a well-regarded travel book, but it was nice when people, such as one woman at a hotel in the South, maybe one of the Carolinas, asked which book I was fact-checking for and expressed pleasant surprise when I told her. (The woman I’m talking about answered, “Who doesn’t know about it?” when I asked if she knew of 1,000 Places.) Fact-checking for The Obits has been more computer-based, but it’s still fascinating to read these posthumous celebrations of people’s life accomplishments. I especially enjoyed reading the obituaries for the distinguished Elizabeth Taylor and for Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman to run as a Vice Presidential candidate for a major political party, about whom I learned in US History class this past year.

I can’t believe I’m nearly finished with my internship. I could work here forever and may attempt to do something like that, as my experiences so far have really piqued my interest in working in the publishing world. I would love to do this as a career, although I am a little sad that I would have to choose a department and stay there instead of floating around to different ones.

Thanks for reading!

—Jennifer