Murray plowed through dozens of proffered screenplays, but he couldn't bring himself to accept any of them. ''For each year that Bill didn't work, his fee probably went up - until he could ask for and get $6 million in cash for 'Scrooged,' '' says the producer Art Linson. ''That might sound like a lot of money, considering he received more for 'Scrooged' than the producer, director and cast combined. But when it costs a studio $15 million to $20 million for publicity and prints just to open a major picture, it might just be a bargain in Billy's case - because his name across the marquee will sell over $10 million worth of tickets in the opening three to four days. The only two actors, serious or comic, who can guarantee that degree of turnout in 1988 are Bill Murray and Eddie Murphy. That factor is the source of Billy's power in Hollywood. Not that he plays on it. Normally, unless he's giving input on his own pictures, he ignores it.''

Murray himself feels that ''Scrooged'' was well worth waiting for, since the movie permits him to deliver a substantial theme in a whimsical package. ''For now,'' he contends, ''the goal is to cut through the glamour - which has its place, I guess - and give the public a little food for thought. . . . There are moments in the Dickensian morality of 'Scrooged' where you have the creepy chance to contemplate your ruin -the bottom of your future.''

Up close, Murray's rough visage is not conventionally handsome, yet there is something in the solidity of his gaze that often makes it so. His musical burrs and thoughtful mein reveal a man accustomed to the darkness and the light.

Beginning next month, Murray will be shooting the sequel to ''Ghostbusters.'' He is pleased with the script ''because after four drafts it returns the story to a human scale, with subtlety and no silly explosions at the end. Like 'Scrooged,' it's a story about innocence restored, and good values, and the power of faith in ordinary people. It sounds corny but I'd like all my stuff from here on out to be things you wouldn't be afraid to let your kids' kids discover decades from now. Like I discovered 'A Tale of Two Cities' or even Mr. Magoo.''

MICKEY KELLY, A former talent coordinator on the ''The Tonight Show'' and ''The Dick Cavett Show,'' is a self-assured brunette. She and Murray were married on Jan. 24, 1981, at 4:30 A.M. in a Las Vegas ''elopement'' - engineered by the actor - that had begun as a spin through the San Fernando Valley to find a Mexican restaurant. As the drive turned into a puzzling tour, Mickey Kelly's stomach grumbled and her mood grew grim (''I thought he was trying to drive me insane'').

These days, in a village by the Hudson, Mickey Kelly runs a custom furniture shop while Murray tends to his ''screen thing.'' On a recent autumn afternoon, she is off running errands while her husband splits luncheon and babysitting chores with the housekeeper.

With Homer still at school and Luke dispatched for a nap, Murray commandeers the gleaming, country-style kitchen to prepare a highly touted rissota con Champagne. As a splendid sun advances upon the luxuriant back lawn of his home, he sets a table on the veranda with linen placemats and ceramic dishware. The meal is tasty, the herbal tea flavorful, and the conversation meditative as Murray reviews the quirky milestones that helped mold the man he has become.