Then I saw it: Hüsker Dü, "The Living End," track 24: "Sheena Is a Punk Rocker." It closed out the record.

Forgive me. Again.

(Bob Massey writes for the Washington Post, Spin and other publications.)

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Cory Brown:

Jeff Hyman wanted to be a rock and roll star, but the Forest Hills neighborhood of Queens was just where rock stars are bred, not groomed. After all, Forest Hills had already yielded Simon & Garfunkel, the Rascals and Leslie West of Mountain. It was a neighborhood of mostly Jewish and Italian immigrants then, many of them already second- or third-generation with shortened last names and rules about speaking English in the house.

Back then, you could almost call it a suburb, with doctor's offices on the ground floor of many apartment buildings. The only evidence of this old neighborhood that still exists today on the stretch of Queens Boulevard that served as its nexus is Ben's Kosher Delicatessen. The rest of the block is now strip joints, tchotchke shops and newsstands that sell bad coffee.

This was not the place to become a rock star. For that, you had to take the subway into the city. Jewish rock stars weren't as uncommon as one might think, but they'd also changed or shortened their names. Everyone knows Dylan was Zimmerman and some know the aforementioned West was a Weinstein. When Jeff Hyman changed his name to Joey Ramone, though, it didn't have the same ring of assimilation. It didn't seem as though he was subscribing to the old rules that Jews couldn't rock publicly as Jews, that only white America rocked.

Then again, you just couldn't know for sure. The Ramones had named themselves after an old Paul McCartney pseudonym, back from the days of the Silver Beatles when he called himself Paul Ramon and wore denim and leather, bombing in small clubs in Germany. Jeff and his friends wanted to recall the era when Paul still rocked and found themselves bombing in small clubs in Manhattan.

Until it clicked. Sire signed them and a million bands were born. Whether you're a fan who considers the punk rock cataclysm to be their first CBGB gig in 1974 or the release of "Ramones" in 1976, odds are you don't consider 1985 to be a significant year for either the Ramones or for punk rock. However, that's my cataclysm.

That year, the Ramones released their single "Bonzo Goes To Bitburg," about then-President Ronald Reagan's disgraceful visit to a Nazi cemetery in Bitburg, Germany. The song is an unrecognized gem, an infectiously catchy vintage Ramones tune from their post-vintage period. Nobody had considered the Ramones anything close to a political band, but Joey stepped up.

Bonzo goes to Bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on TV somehow it really bothered me

he sang. And:

Shaking hands with your highness
See through you like cellophane
You watch the world complain, but you do it anyway
Who am I, am I to say?

It wasn't a perspective shared by the rest of the band, either. Guitarist Johnny Ramone was a staunch conservative and when the otherwise unremarkable "Animal Boy" album was released shortly after the single, the song was retitled "My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down" due to his vehement protests. But for a second, Joey showed the world that he was still Jeff Hyman from Forest Hills, Queens or, perhaps more importantly, that Joey Ramone, punk rock icon, was a Jew.

(Cory Brown owns and operates the Absolutely Kosher Records label out of San Francisco, California.)

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