Frank Oz's Thoughts on Jim Henson

The following is an introduction that Frank Oz wrote for the book Jim Henson: The Works.

How do you write about someone who did so much and who meant so much to you? All I can do is put down some remembrances and feelings.
People recall Jim in many different ways. What I remember and still feel about him is his strength. His strength of character, his strength of vision, his strength of will.
He would travel to New York, London, Toronto, Los Angeles...our main areas of production over the years. He would travel back and forth, constantly working. He always worked harder than anyone else in the company. But he would never complain about how tired he was or how he was shouldering so much. Never. He would always find something positive about it. He loved his work.
But Jim was no workaholic. I always marveled at how, given his heavy schedule, he could relax and play. He seemed to appreciate life so much. Every aspect of it. He would go on a balloon trip with friends, drinking champagne while drifting over the French countryside. He would take a group of us, first class, on the QE2 to London to shoot The Muppet Show. He would rent a boat with family and friends and sail around the islands. He loved taking walks or flying kites on Hampstead Heath in London, or a really good meal, or an evening with friends.
I've never known anyone like Jim. He had a strength and a sweetness, a stillness and a savvy. He was the most giving man I've ever known. He had a great generosity of spirit, of time, of money for other people. He valued quality work, but being a good human being was just as important to him.
He was head of a large company with offices in three cities. He was the father of five children. He was a performer, a writer, a producer, a television director, a motion picture director, a businessman, a creator, a visionary. And with all this he always managed to have fun.
During a recording date he would feel responsible for keeping things moving, so he would be the serious one while we performers clowned around between takes. He would often get impatient with us, which usually meant he would quietly clear his throat and shift his weight on his stool. That's when we knew we should get to work. But then he couldn't help himself and he would join in the silliness until he cried from laughter. And then he would look at his watch and bring us back on course. But he always had a gift for allowing chaos and, through the chaos, guiding us to a better result.
Sitting next to me in our countless taxi trips and airplane rides, Jim would talk to me about the future, about the new projects that excited him and what he hoped to do with them and who could best help him bring them about. I remember years ago, during one of those talks, he said to me that he just wanted to "do good stuff." As he became more successful he saw that he also had opportunities to do good for people, too. He want to make a difference.
In Thornton Wilder's Our Town, the dead in the cemetery speak of the living, saying about them that "they don't understand." Well, Jim understand. He loved his family. He loved his work. He loved us. He loved and appreciated life. He understood.

-FRANK OZ

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