Anthea Chronicles No. 8: My Bill Murray Quest
I spot him across the lobby. Instantly recognizable: his laugh, his way of slouchily reacting to the person he is talking to, kind of rubbery. It’s Bill Murray! He’s on tour with cellist Jan Vogler. The year is 2018.
I nudge my cellist. He knows Jan. Can I go over with him and just, like, happen to say hello?
As usual, I kind-of feel like a dork. Awkward in my out-going-ness. Too animated. Clothes somehow odd or too informal. I’m still not fitting into this German world, a world I have to navigate, even when I’m in the States. Today we are in Princeton, New Jersey. The job I stepped into a couple of years ago when I accepted a position as a member of the Artemis Quartet still feels like I’m putting on a new pair of shoes. They look great but squish my toes and give me blisters.
But with a smile and an eyebrow raise, my cellist says, “Ok let’s go,” and before I know it, we are all eating together around a long wooden table in the dark, rustic hotel pub. I get to sit next to Bill. We’re both Chicago raised, have gigs tonight, and before a tick, we are laughing (loudly), swapping one-liners, and Bill jumps up to retrieve the gigantic wooden pepper grinder from the waitstaff resupply station. He is lively, bouncy, quick, and as he approaches my chair, he says, “I’d love to pepper your bun if that’s alright with you” and with a dramatic gesture, unleashes a generous dose of pepper onto my burger.
Within minutes, he’s holding my hand, gently twisting my wedding ring off, saying something along the lines of “Well, that was pretty loose. Must feel great to have that off for a minute.” I can’t even remember what we talked about, but it was a surprise when we noticed the rest of the group getting ready to leave. Bill was complaining about his pants and asked the waitress if there was any place to get a decent pair of suspenders in this town. She writes down a couple of options, and as we stand, he invites me to come along. To go suspender shopping with Bill Murray.
And I say no – I’m a bit swimmy from jet lag (this is the first concert of our two-week tour) and I’m looking forward to spending time with my hosts, Anne-Marie Slaughter, political scientist and the author of Unfinished Business: Women Men Work Family, and her husband Andrew Moravcsik, professor of politics and international affairs at Princeton.
And so I turn Bill Murray down. It’s one of the decisions that regularly wakes me at 3:00 AM, a top-10 regret.
As I write this, I’m on an airplane heading home to Oregon from Charleston, S.C., where I had 3 sold-out concerts and a show for my upcoming book at the Charleston Library Society. My publicist tasked me with the seemingly impossible job of getting 100 reviews. Of course she does most of the work, but I’m doing what I can. And, I think to myself, why not try to get one from Bill? He’s a musician, he probably likes to read? And he lives in Charleston! So, on my one morning off, I have a Bill Murray quest. I’ve been asking around, trying to figure out where he goes, what he’s into. And my best bet, I think, is the hole-in-the-wall Queen Street Grocery, a funky, coffee/deli, that has even named one of their signature crepes “The Murray” after Bill.
My plan: write a personal note in my book and try to convince someone to give it to him. I walk the 25 minutes to the Grocery, bringing with me an extra book for the cashier. I buy a t-shirt, some stickers and a coffee, and while I’m paying, take out a book, giving it to the young man counting my change. He’s also a musician on the side, and as he thanks me, I ask if I could leave one for Bill. We had lunch a bunch of years ago and I turned him down for suspender shopping. The cashier says, “Oh sure, just prop it right here on the cash register and we’ll give it to him next time we see him.” Wow. And the person right behind me takes a photo of the book. It’s her turn to choose the next book for her book club and she thinks this is perfect.
I texted my publicist on the way back to my B&B, telling her the good news. And she wrote back, you are the kookiest author we have ever worked with, but probably the only one who will actually make it to 100 reviews!
As I forge ahead with this new world of being an author, I’m sure I’ll keep doing what I do, making wild stabs in the dark, and laughing (too loudly) along the way.
All Classical Radio’s 2026-2027 Artist in Residence Anthea Kreston‘s first-ever memoir, Crescendo: Chronicles of an Adventurous Violinist, is now available wherever fine books are sold.
Visit the All Classical Gift Shop at shop.allclassical.org to snag your copy today.
Learn more at antheakreston.com/crescendo.
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