Going through some of my father’s stuff, I just stumbled across the Congressional Record from November 25, 1963, the first day Congress reconvened after the assassination of President Kennedy. The Record that day 50 years ago is a truncated version because both House and Senate only met briefly before marching off as a group to view Kennedy’s casket in the Capitol Rotunda in preparation for his funeral. However, several members and others paid tribute to the fallen leader, among them Speaker McCormack, Chief Justice Warren and Sen. Dirksen. All the remarks are well worth reading, but the most notable eulogy to me was that delivered by Montana Sen. Mike Mansfield.

Seeing “60 Minutes” apologize to its viewers today for reporting apparent lies as truth in a recent story about Benghazi reminded me of an earlier time when Mike Wallace picked up a phone and apologized to me:

If one thing was true about Mike Wallace, it was that you didn’t want to see him standing in your driveway with a camera crew, or even to hear his voice on the other end of the phone.

And yet, my one contact with Wallace was the time he called me as editor of Connecticut Magazine to apologize for something he had done to one of our freelance writers.

In 1993, the freelancer, Karon Haller, had written a terrific story on a West Hartford man who, during the act of assisting in the suicide for his ailing father had put a pillow over the old man’s face and suffocated him, thus stepping well beyond the normal parameters for an assisted suicide. Wallace and his producers at “60 Minutes” had decided to do a story on the case and on Karon’s reporting of it. They’d invited her to come to New York to be interviewed for the program, a request that raised all sorts of red flags for her. She declined. Next, Mike Wallace was on the phone with her, asking if she’d be willing to come down and talk to him in his office, not on camera, so he could have a better understanding of the story. Karon relented and they set up a meeting.

When she arrived at Wallace’s CBS office, Karon thought things seemed a little strange. The lighting was very bright and Wallace appeared to be wearing make-up. Still, she didn’t see a camera, so she spoke with Wallace and seemed to have given him all he needed.

A couple of days later, media writer Howard Kurtz of The Washington Post called Karon and me to say he had been told a hidden camera, secreted in the curtains, had been used for the interview. Not only that, but others on the “60 Minutes” team, including Morley Safer, had watched the proceedings from an adjoining office. In effect, Wallace had used the same sort of trickery he employed on crooks to get what he wanted out of a person who had done nothing wrong.

Kurtz’s story caused a sensation, and eventually that rarest of things, a Wallace apology. And not only that, but an on-the-air apology.

As for his phone call to me, he of course began by challenging the things I had been quoted as saying in the Post’s story. But at length he said he was sorry for the way he and his team had treated one of our writers. Sensing that with Wallace on the defensive I was in uncharted territory, I told him not to worry about it and hung up the phone.

Today has been an excellent day for apologies. Already, and it’s still only morning, President Obama has apologized for his Obamacare roll-out fiasco, CBS News has apologized for using a liar’s account in a “60 Minutes” Benghazi report and the editor of Guns & Ammo has apologized for allowing mention of gun control onto the pages of his magazine. So, with public apologies seemingly more popular than ever, it seems a good time to revisit my own thoughts on apologies from 2012:

“An apology? Disgusting! Cowardly! Beneath the dignity of any gentleman, however wrong he may be.”—Steve Martin

Are you increasingly worried about the sorry state we’re in? Well, I’m more concerned about our “sorry” state—by which I mean the endless stream of public apologies, and public calls for apologies, that threatens to plague our every waking hour and make us all miserable.

This has already been a vintage year for apologies in Connecticut, and the political campaigns haven’t even gotten fired up for November yet. John Rowland apologized to Gov. Dannel Malloy for calling him “a pathological liar.” UConn coach Jim Calhoun apologized for NCAA recruiting violations. Hartford Courant cartoonist Bob Englehart apologized for a blog posting. The Connecticut Post apologized to the New Haven Register for giving the impression the latter was ceasing publication. Gov. Malloy apologized to a New Haven school teacher (“If I’ve offended you, I apologize”) for something he’d said in his budget address. And those are only a few of the highlights. The fact is, these days you simply cannot claim to be a legitimate American success story if you haven’t publicly apologized for something.

These apologies come every which way, in all manner of tone, scope and language. CL&P Chairman Charles W. Shivery tried to make up to customers after last October’s devastating snowstorm by saying in part, “I realize that we did not meet the goals that we set for ourselves and upon which many of our customers relied, and for that I apologize.” Aetna was contrite 150 years after the fact for profiting from slavery. Similarly, the Courant expressed sorrow for running ads touting the sale of slaves or recovery of runaways.

Sometimes apologies come in bunches. Former U.S. Rep. Rob Simmons had a bracing week apology-wise in May 2010, when first he called on Richard Blumenthal to apologize for misrepresenting his (Blumenthal’s) service in the Marine Corps Reserves (Blumenthal, of course, apologized). Then a few days later, Simmons felt he himself had to apologize for saying fellow Republican Linda McMahon would not be able to win her senate race against Blumenthal (“I probably shouldn’t have said what I said. I talked too much and I’m sorry.”) Of course, Simmons was right about McMahon’s chances, and he knew he was right, but he apologized anyway.

Bristol Mayor Art Ward has also grabbed both ends of the apology stick. In 2010, he demanded an apology from radio’s Rush Limbaugh after Limbaugh for some reason described Bristol as nothing more than “ESPN and a couple of cheap hotels.” Two years later, Ward himself had to apologize for telling an irritating Bristol councilman to “shut the fuck up” during a public council meeting.

The language of the apology counts for a lot. When East Haven Mayor Joe Maturo was asked earlier this year what he might do for his town’s Latino population in the wake of a cop scandal, he said, “I might have tacos when I go home”—a wiseguy remark that immediately went viral and at last put East Haven on the map. Rocking back on his heels, Maturo soon uttered the classic non-apology apology (usually reserved for ill-Tweeting professional athletes) when he said, “If [my comment] harmed anybody or hurt anybody, I apologize.” But ultimately he was reduced to the supine “My sincerest apologies go to the East Haven community and, in particular, the Latino community for the insensitive blah, blah, blah.”

It is apparently even okay for one person who has issued an apology to comment  critically on the quality of apologies issued by others. Radio jock Don Imus famously called the Rutgers women’s basketball team a bunch of “nappy-headed hoes” back in 2007. He later went to New Brunswick where he apologized face-to-face to the team and its coach. This act evidently gave him license earlier this year to call Rush Limbaugh an “insensitive pig” and a “pill-popping pinhead” for his less than abject apology (“I didn’t mean to personally attack her”) after three days of on-air vitriol directed against Georgetown University grad student Sandra Fluke, who’d angered Limbaugh (he called her a “slut”) for defending what she considered to be attacks on women’s reproductive rights.

For the record, I have two favorite apologies. One is from the movie A Fish Called Wanda, when Archie (played by John Cleese) says, while being held out a window by his ankles: “I offer a complete and utter retraction. The imputation was totally without basis in fact, and was in no way a fair comment and was motivated purely by malice. And I deeply regret any distress that my comments may have caused you, or your family, and I hereby undertake not to repeat any such slander at any time in the future.”

The best, however, was the work of Samuel Clemens, toiling before his Mark Twain days as a newspaper editor in San Francisco. After a local poet objected to a comment about his latest verse, Clemens wrote, “Of course we apologized, but this wasn’t enough. The mustachioed hero wanted ‘a written retraction.’ Well, we have no objections; and, accordingly, to save further trouble, we offer this ‘general explanation’ as an apology for all the imaginary offenses of which we have ever been guilty, or with which we shall be charged in the future.”

Copy and paste, all you politicians and loudmouths. It’s the ultimate CYA.