Jim Hill
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When You Wish Upon a ... Frog?!
A Genius Dies. A Nation Mourns. A Deal Unravels.

It's something that still gnaws at the senior Muppeteers. Something that the guys who'd worked with Henson for decades still debate about -- particularly after they've had one two many drinks over dinner.

I.E. Did Jim know? Did the master Muppeteer have some sort of premonition -- prior to his death -- that his time was running out?

The whole idea sounds absurd ... Until you start reviewing the evidence. Then you're not so sure.

Take -- for instance -- the letter that Henson wrote to his children back in 1996, where Jim spells out how he wants his memorial service to be staged. Though a year shy of his 50th birthday and still in the picture of health, Henson still left a detailed plan as to how he wanted his demise to play out.

Instead of a gloomy, tear-stained affair, Henson wanted his passing to be marked by an event that would be upbeat, light and positive. That's why Jim insisted that no one attending the service be allowed to wear black. And that the whole shindig kick off with a Dixieland Band marching up the aisle, playing "When the Saints Go Marching In."

Then there's Henson's decision to sell off the Muppets to the Walt Disney Company in August of 1989. By cutting that deal, in one fell swoop, Jim A) made sure that his family and fellow Muppeteers would have financial security for the rest of their lives and B) his characters were guaranteed to live on long after he was gone.

This sounds like the work of someone who was definitely getting his affairs in order, right? Well ... Then there are the signs that indicate that Henson had no clue whatsoever of his imminent demise. Take -- for instance -- this incident that occurred in March of 1990, while Jim was down in Orlando with the rest of the Muppeteers working on "The Muppets go to Walt Disney World" TV special.

During some down-time on this production, Steve Whitmire (AKA the guy who puppeteers Rizzo the Rat)'s wife Melissa pulled out a copy of GQ. In this particular issue of GQ was a quiz that asked "How long will you live based on your lifestyle, health habits, etc." So while they were waiting for the crew at Disney/MGM to finish setting up a shot, Jim, Steve, Melissa and veteran Muppeteer Jerry Nelson took the magazine's longevity test.

Based on the answers Henson gave, the GQ quiz suggested that Jim would probably live to be the ripe old age of 80. Henson seemed genuinely pleased with that news, even joking with his co-horts that he should now go buy an island somewhere in the South Seas. Some place warm that they could all go retire to. The Old Puppeteer's Home, if you will.

These don't sound like the words of a man who knew his days were numbered, do they?

And yet -- even as Henson was joking with his friends about the Pacific paradise where they'd all spend their autumn years -- Jim had less than two months to live.

The truly terrible part of this story? Jim Henson died from a treatable disease. Sure, group A streptococcus pneumonia sounds terrible. But -- in laymen's terms -- it's just pneumonia brought on a strep infection. A condition that entirely curable if it's caught in time and treated with appropriate antibiotics.