NEW YORK — The vicious feud between Rosie O'Donnell and the publishers of "Rosie" magazine began with a mafia-style spat over "The Sopranos."

The magazine's new editor had chosen a cover photograph that featured O'Donnell with several women from the HBO drama series. The problem: O'Donnell thought she looked fat.

After a protracted fight with editor Susan Toepfler, O'Donnell wrangled her way out of the photograph, leaving three of the show's actresses on the cover alone, but the feud continued. The ill will between the celebrity figurehead and her staff eventually became so severe that the magazine fell apart.

The "Sopranos" confrontation was just one of the revelations to emerge Thursday during the opening day of a civil trial that stands to turn the high-profile world of celebrity magazines inside out.

Who is at fault for the magazine's demise is the central question in the dispute between O'Donnell and the magazine's publisher, Gruner and Jahr USA.

'Rosie' magazine, which used to be McCall's, folded within two years.

The German publishing company, which has seven U.S. magazines including Fitness, Child, YM, and Parent, says O'Donnell set out to sabotage the magazine when she was not able to get her way. They want $100 million from O'Donnell, whose successful six-year run as a talk show host left her with considerable cash reserves.

"The evidence will show that Rosie O'Donnell is a celebrity who became addicted to getting her way," said Gruner and Jahr lawyer Martin Hyman in his opening statement Thursday morning.

O'Donnell has filed counterclaims against her former partners, saying they shut her off from control of the magazine she fronted successfully for nearly two years. She wants $125 million.

Outside the courthouse Thursday, O'Donnell discounted the monetary figure. "I don't really care about the money ... All I care about is this: let's present the facts to a judge. Whatever he decides I will do, and I will not appeal because I believe in his judgment and I believe that the truth will answer everyone's questions."

During her opening statement, O'Donnell's lawyer, Lorna Schofield, said that fuss over O'Donnell's brash nature and occasional use of profanity was unwarranted.

"She's not Mother Teresa," said Schofield.  "When she's provoked, she yells and cusses. There's no dispute about that. With Rosie O'Donnell, what you see is what you get.  That's part of her persona."

O'Donnell's lawyer also singled out three specific contract violations by Gruner and Jahr.  After stripping O'Donnell of her editorial control (breach number one), they disparaged her in the press (number two) and then conspired to cook their financials to prevent O'Donnell from opting out of the contract (number three).

But the question for State Supreme Court Justice Ira Gammerman is who violated the contract first. Gammerman, a charismatic judge who eschews the traditional black robes and has no qualms about cutting an attorney off in midstream if the point has been made, will rule instead of a jury.

As the first party to file suit, Gruner and Jahr gets first crack at presenting witnesses and evidence.

E-mails, many of them sent from O'Donnell's AOL address to Rosie magazine staff, provided the backbone of the publisher's case Thursday, with lawyers using them to demonstrate how, they say, O'Donnell tried to wrest control of the magazine from the editorial staff. They claim she pushed unsavory subject matter and cover models.

Both sides seem to agree that the dispute over the "Sopranos" cover was the beginning of the end for the relationship, which once enabled O'Donnell to approve every cover photo, layout, article, and photograph that appeared in the magazine.

The "Sopranos" cover, however, was merely a flashpoint for what was a larger change in editorial direction.

With circulation flagging in spring of 2002, top Gruner and Jahr executives sought to guide the magazine in the direction of more successful, but less personality-driven magazines like People. Former People deputy editor Susan Toepfler, hired on July 8, was to be the vehicle for change. 

But O'Donnell balked, not only at the changes, but at Toepfler herself. 

O'Donnell says she wanted to preserve the magazine's distinctive personality, encouraging women to be themselves, as well as take the publication in a more serious direction. Changes such as the use of models instead of "real people," and pressure to appear as the "face" of the publication threatened O'Donnell's dignity, she claims.

"It was not only a struggle for the steering wheel ... but about where to go," said O'Donnell's lawyer, Schofield.

O'Donnell invested just less than $6 million in Rosie during her time there, and as a 50 percent partner, had veto power over all new senior staff hires. She answered only to Gruner and Jahr CEO Dan Brewster. 

O'Donnell admits giving the OK to hire Toepfler, but claims it was predicated on Cathy Cavender, the existing editor in chief, and Doug Turshan, the creative director, remaining on staff.

Cavender was let go soon after Toepfler came on board, and Turshan became O'Donnell's confidante during the magazine's dying days. Testifying as a hostile witness for Gruner and Jahr, Turshan told the court that senior executives at the German magazine giant plotted to remove Cavender and, after O'Donnell refused to be reined in, usurped her control entirely and alienated her from the staff.

Turshan and O'Donnell cemented their alliance in a hotel suite at the Mohegan Sun casino in Connecticut, he said. It was June 22, 2002 — almost two months before O'Donnell made her last appearance at the magazine's offices, shepherded by security guards and a senior Gruner and Jahr executive.

That night at the casino, O'Donnell asked Turshan for his help, warning him that Susan Toepfler would be made editor and then replace Susan Ungaro, an editorial consultant who reported directly to CEO Brewster, Turshan testified. 

O'Donnell and Turshan reviewed a number of stories together, with O'Donnell emphasizing edgier, grittier stories and cover model choices, said Turshan. Among her cover choice selections were a photograph of a wheelchair-bound Christopher Reeve, a poster from his Superman days in the background; a collage of Boy George photographs (she would later collaborate with the pop star on a Broadway musical now in New York); and photographs she had taken of friends.

Later that night, O'Donnell performed a raunchy stand-up routine at the casino during which she announced, according to Turshan, that "the queen of nice ain't so nice any more."

Gruner and Jahr lawyer Martin Hyman asked Turshan to describe the performance.

"Not great..." said the diminutive witness. "She bombed."

At that, O'Donnell stifled a laugh. "I'm sorry," she said.

After Toepfler had been hired and the dispute over the "Sopranos" cover began, O'Donnell sent Turshan an e-mail entreating him to "open his fu**ing mouth. On a personal level, you have to be my eyes, Doug," read the e-mail, presented in court by Gruner and Jahr lawyers.

According to the publishing company, O'Donnell decided to attempt to have Toepfler fired and replaced by former editor Cavender. She allegedly asked Turshan to arrange a meeting of all the staff, which he did. But Turshan's memo notably omitted new editor Toepfler.

As a result, on July 17, Turshan was fired for "insubordination." O'Donnell left the magazine August 15.

A bright beginning

O'Donnell's beginnings at the magazine has been genial, testified editorial consultant Ungaro earlier Thursday. The first three issues, which featured O'Donnell on the cover, sold well at the newsstand, averaging 800,000 copies. Subsequent covers with less emphasis on O'Donnell — or without her altogether — showed lackluster sales, however.

"You have that three to five seconds to sell a magazine at the checkout, and the cover and the photo are everything," explained Ungaro.

After the falling-out over the "Sopranos" cover, O'Donnell's cover choices became more extravagant. Even her editor's letter reflected her shift in stance. In a July 13 rough draft displayed in court by Gruner and Jahr lawyers, O'Donnell said she longed for a magazine that took more risks.

"We may go down in the surf ... [but] I would rather go breaking records than stay on shore watching the brave ones swim," she said in the internal communication.

Known for her boisterous personality, exhibited in such films as "A League of One's Own," O'Donnell seemed out of character as a demure, reserved litigant Thursday. She wore a conservative red pantsuit and was flanked by her domestic partner, Kelli O'Donnell, and her publicist, Cindi Berger.

At other times the former talk show host was pure "Rosie O'Donnell." Before most of the 60 or so reporters had settled into their seats Thursday morning, O'Donnell caught the eye of a courtroom sketch artist.

"Thinner," mouthed O'Donnell, squeezing her palms together.  "Make me thinner."

O'Donnell is expected to testify next week. Her supporters were outside the courthouse in full force with T-shirts and posters for O'Donnell to sign. 

"We think this lawsuit is atrocious," said John Small, the leader of group wearing "Save Rosie" T-shirts. "She bought people houses. She paid for people's operations. Gruner and Jahr can take that all away."