Never apologize. Never explain. Immortal words placed on the lips of John Wayne in the 1949 screenplay She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. And advice taken, consciously or not, by virtually every ad copywriter in history.

Still, every once in a while we used to explain stuff, like how the first blade in the double-bladed razor bent the little beard stubble hair over so the second blade could come along like out of nowhere and slice the little bugger off at the ankles.

But in spite of all the promises, we never explained to you how the caramel gets into the Caramilk Bar. And mostly, what passes for explanation in advertising is actually boasting. No, advertising is not flush with genuine, heartfelt explanations. And apologies? Fuggedit.

Try to remember the last time an ad apologized for past sins of commission or omission. And don’t give me the much-debated-on-these-pages Wrigley’s gum TV ad where the goons smash the guitar of the poor creep who’s still singing the taste is gonna move ya! That’s not an apology, it’s self-parody.

I can recall a couple of tongue-in-cheek adland apologies. Once upon a time, Stan Freeburg had the Sunsweet account out of California. He wrote and performed a spot where he rambled on about prunes, and how the unfortunate thing about prunes was (a) the pits and (b) the wrinkles. He then went on to explain that henceforth, Sunsweet would be selling bagged prunes that had the pits removed. The spot closed with a triumphant symphony climax and the words TODAY THE PITS, TOMORROW THE WRINKLES. SUNSWEET MARCHES ON!

And of course, there is the famous Volkswagen line It’s ugly, but it works. This is quite wonderful, of course, and illustrates perfectly the desired psychological pay-off of the little-used apology strat, which is if I come clean on the downside, maybe you’ll believe me when I proclaim the upside.

Now all this is obviously leading up to something, and the something is a double-truck ad in a recent New Yorker magazine run by would you believe General Motors, and it contains what can only be interpreted as an apology, which seems worthy of examination ’cause this does not happen every day.

The left-hand page shows a winding two-lane blacktop snaking off into the distance, beneath a break in black and lowering storm clouds where golden sunshine is at last breaking through the gloom. Supered on the angry sky is the headline THE LONGEST ROAD IN THE WORLD IS THE ROAD TO REDEMPTION. Okay, you’re thinking some big fat apology ’cause this is only the damn headline and without actually admitting anything General Motors has already projected itself into Mary Magdalene or Bill Clinton forgivenessland, but wait, read the copy!

Thirty years ago, GM quality was the best in the world. Twenty years ago, it wasn’t. The story of our long journey back. That’s just the subhead, folks. There’s more!

Here are some of the confessional bombshells: Ten years ago, we had a choice. We could keep looking in the rearview mirror, or out at the road ahead…The hard part meant breaking out of our own bureaucratic gridlock. Learning some humbling lessons from our competitors. And instilling a true culture of quality in every

division, in every department, in every corner of the company. (Although this last sentence could be considered a boast, it also implies there was no true culture of quality previously, right?)

The main body copy now accelerates into a litany of best in our history and challenging the automotive world claims, but I guess we knew that was coming.

Interestingly, there are punchy little editorial blocks floating around the perimeter of the main copy. One explains how GM makes 6-cylinder engines perform like V8s. Another, headed The road back began at dawn, tells how GM’s culture of quality started with a literal wake-up call. In a series of mandatory 6 a.m. meetings, the gospel was spread throughout the company. You can kinda see all those million-buck stock-option GM execs who got up at 3 a.m. to get to the tent show hollering Lawdy, Lawdy, I am HEALED!

Okay, we can snicker openly behind our hands. But just imagine the level of approvals this thing had to go through to get rearview mirror, bureaucratic gridlock and humbling lessons into print. When you think about it, it’s a kind of a miracle, whether it’s a good ad or not. And I’d call it a good ad.

One thing we know for sure: The final client signature on this one is somebody who sure as hell wasn’t calling the shots 10 years ago. And the somebodies who were now know they should have fired his troublemaking ass when they had the chance.

Barry Base creates advertising campaigns for a living. He writes this column to blow off steam, and as a thinly disguised lure to attract clients who may imagine working with him could be a productive and amusing experience. Barry can be reached at (416) 924-5533, or faxed at (416) 960-5255, at the Toronto office of Barry Base & Partners.