It can’t be… It is!
“Take a fresh look at Buick,” the voiceover tells us in the carmaker’s new anthem. The commercial features vignettes of people in disbelief that the lovely new car they are gazing upon and/or riding in is in fact a Buick. An old woman insists the regal beauty in her son’s driveway is not a Buick. She grew up with Buicks and knows her Buicks. A valet keeps running past a new Buick in the parking lot searching for what we surmise must be an old-fashioned car. Later we see him behind the wheel. “Nice,” he says. A desperately envious housewife ogles her neighbor’s new SUV, unaware it is a Buick, as her cuckold husband mopes beside her.
In the print ad a hip millennial with blue streaks in her hair smiles behind the wheel mocking the notion of Buick being only for blue-haired ladies.
We get the idea. Buick has been transformed into a luxury car made for today. In other words, this is not your father’s Buick. Obviously, we’ve been down this road before…
In the late 80’s I was on the team that introduced America to a truly new Oldsmobile. Barely into my first job at Leo Burnett, I wrote and produced the opening commercial in the now infamous “Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile” campaign, featuring William Shatner and his daughter. For that, I wrote the line, “New Generation of Olds” but America really only remembers the step-up line, which became part of the pop culture lexicon. Even so, within a few years Oldsmobile would go out of business, retiring the brand forever. For more on all that, including some great insider controversy, start here.
The point is Buick is trying to do the exact same thing. My guess is that it won’t end well for them either. I say this not because the strategy is necessarily wrong but as Oldsmobile learned the hard way it might very well be a dooming one. No matter how clever the executions –and these are decent- Buick is still telling folks that it is not an old-fashioned car (anymore), which, alas, has the unfortunate side effect of reminding people that Buick is totally known for being old-fashioned. It is a paradox. A bit like saying your cool ultimately means you’re not cool. We see these commercials and we cannot help but think Buick doth protest too much.
I mean no ill will for Buick or their ad agency. But I have spent decades wondering what went wrong with Oldsmobile, especially given how much America loved our silly campaign. There are but two reasons: The new generation of Olds was not as good as our father’s. And that the marketing released a deadly worm into the world dooming Oldsmobile to the scrap heap of history.
Anything can happen. After all, these new Buicks may well be damn fine cars. But perception is reality and this campaign inevitably ignites a very dangerous perception.
The Wrath of Kahn. How old blog post about even older “Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile” is still stirring the pot.
October 22, 2010
Sorry son, only the tagline lives on…
This is not your father’s Oldsmobile. The line has become a pop culture catch phrase, in the same ilk (albeit attached to worse advertising) as “Got Milk?” Try reading your morning paper and not finding a variation on it. For example, about a candidate: “This is not your father’s Democrat.” About a technological innovation: “This is not your mother’s sewing machine.” And so on. Sadly enough, more Americans are familiar with the Olds’ slogan than they are of Shakespeare’s finest sonnets. Way more.
As I remember it, a soft-spoken creative director at Leo Burnett by the name of Joel Machak wrote that famous line. Yours truly actually came up with the campaign’s tag: “The New Generation of Olds.” Both pieces were intended as lyrics. That’s right, a jingle! As a matter of fact, I was brought in (just a kid at the time) to help Joel come up with the refrain. The piece went together as follows (sing along): This is not your father’s Oldsmobile…This is the new generation of Olds.
Given it’s continued popularity I decided to write a piece about it, in 2008. Since then the story continues to provoke readers to comment on the campaign. The debate mainly revolves around who actually penned the line, including a recent missive from then creative director, Don Gwaltney. (Hi Don!)
Before I go on, let me state that all the posted arguments are more than less valid. Don Gwaltney. Ted Bell. Jim Ferguson. David Caldwell. Joel Machak. Me. We were all in the proverbial room when said campaign got said. Have a look at the string and catch up on your ad history: My post, 2008
What’s ironic is that when this campaign was in its heyday most of us were not particularly proud of it. We knew it was catchy but we also realized it was damn silly. As the commercials caught on I remember feeling pretty foolish about what I’d created. It wasn’t until years later I actually put a couple of the spots on my reel and even then I did so with trepidation. To my recollection the campaign never won a single creative award. A few years later Oldsmobile went out of business. The adline proved true to a fault. This was not your father’s Oldsmobile. Dad’s Oldsmobile was good. These cars were mediocre and overpriced.
Be that as it may, the campaign became a part of advertising history –even American history. And people want their props.
With equal parts embarrassment and pride, I give you one of the first commercials, which I wrote, for “Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile.”
Saab Story: Famous Swedish auto could handle the worst snow but not the bull— in Detroit.
November 30, 2009
“Hey Sven, your car needs a jump!”
After 80 years, Saab Auto is likely to shut down forever. Bought by GM a decade ago, the legendary Swedish automaker quickly turned into a liability for them. Or was it the other way around? Either way, General Motors was too big, too provincial and too screwed up to affect a suitable business plan. Car models were not updated. Dealerships were left to languor. And then the recession hit. Saab never had a chance. Unless a white knight appears pronto the car “born from jets” is crashing into oblivion.
I’ve owned Saabs for almost 20 years. I like the way they look. I like the way they handle in Chicago’s cold, snowy weather. I even like the cool, Swedish logo. I am a brand loyalist. For me, Saab is like a Mac on wheels. In 2008 I fought back skepticism about the brand’s decline under GM and bought a 9-5 Aero. As you might expect, I’m not as happy with it as I was with the one before and the one before that. The product is simply not as good. And clearly neither is the company. I suppose I acted in denial, buying the 2008, such was my affinity for the brand. And now my beloved Saab is going extinct.
Saab is not the first automobile in my life to pass away. As some of you know, in the 1990’s, while at Leo Burnett, I co-created the infamous “Not your father’s Oldsmobile” campaign. The slogan fared better than the car. Other than running on gas, Saab has little in common with Olds. Yet, it will suffer the same exact fate.
Doesn’t seem fair. It’s almost as if American thugs kidnapped the sexy Swede, dragged her to Detroit and then murdered her. Scarily, this assessment is all too accurate.
Perhaps another brand loyalist (with a few hundred million dollars) will bail out Saab before it runs out of gas. Surely there’s an outraged Swede out there. Come on Sven, your car needs a jump!
Reflecting on Dan Wieden’s most famous moment of creation.
August 3, 2009
Ah, the moment of creation…
Adweek.com has a 3-minute video featuring Dan Wieden discussing the creation of one of the world’s most famous tag lines: Just Do It. I don’t even have to name the agency or client. We know this, and so much more, from only those three words. My personal favorite tag line: “Nothing runs like a Deere.” However, I fully recognize the transformative, culture-changing power of Nike’s call to action versus the quieter declaration of performance by John Deere.
Unlike a lot of creative directors, I adore taglines. Like to think of them. Like seeing them on the page. The two most famous examples associated with me are polar opposites. They are the “Curiously Strong” mints for Altoids and “This is not your father’s Oldsmobile.”
What’s interesting about Dan’s story is how isolated the moment of creation really was. The night before his agency’s first big creative presentation to Nike, Wieden feared none of the commercials they’d prepared hung together. He wanted a thought that spoke to novice and pro athletes alike. In 20 minutes, he crafted a tagline to unify the campaigns. Unbelievably, Wieden credits convicted killer, Gary Gilmore’s infamous last words to his executioner as inspiration: “Let’s do it,” he’d said before being shot by the firing squad.
I’m willing to bet there’s a robust case study supporting “Just do It” crediting planning, research, insights and a raft of other people, places and things behind that famous mantra. Altoids had a doozy even though it was for the most part retrofitted.
Fact is some of the most inspired creations are made in a vacuum. This holds true for all arts, including persuasive communication. Dan doesn’t mention cohorts or proprietary tools during his moment of creation. We gather it was a birth based on necessity (tie up a campaign), fear (big meeting) and intuition (speak to novice and pro).
One could argue the latter point was based on a collaboratively gleaned insight, perhaps from the agency’s planners. Only problem back then planning was not part of American advertising.
Just like Nike’s rogue founder, Phil Knight, who sold prototype running shoes from the back of his car, Dan Wieden acted alone. For that matter, so did Gilmore but I digress.
I’m not against teamwork. Far from it. I’m proud of the camaraderie at our agency. But I do have to call bullshit on agencies that take credit for one person’s intuition. It happens all the time and it has always bugged me. When the creative muse comes to us in the shower, we are likely alone.
Leo Burnett rhapsodized about the “lonely man,” working late, pen to paper, inhaling one Marlborough after another, until he’d gotten something. That figure still exists, though he or she is probably smoke-free!
The Happy Soul Industry
The Last Generation
Gods of Advertising 