October, the 14-year-old quarterly of social and cultural theory, has always seemed special. Its nonprofit status, its cross-disciplinary forays into film and pshychoanalytic thinking, and its unyielding commitment to theory set it apart from the glossy art magazines whose commercialism it has opposed. Now, two recent resignations from the publication - those of editor Douglas Crimp and managing editor Terri L. Cafaro (whose move "was motivated by Douglas's departure," she says) - raise the possibility that some of the editors of the journal that pioneered investigations into gay and lesbian representation may themselves have succumbed to homophobia.

In the current October (no. 53), twin statements "TO OUR READERS" are offered from Crimp and the three other editors (Joan Copjec, Rosalind Krauss, and Annette Michelson), articulating their respective versions of events. Crimp cites two intertwined causes for his resignation: the rejection of two out of six papers from last October's "How Do I Look?" conference on lesbian and gay media representations, and that this fact indicates "larger [but unnamed] conflicts with October's other three editors about editorial policy." The editors, on the other hand, assert that Crimp's commitment to the publication of all six papers was "unauthorized" and accuse Crimp of "casting a rhetorical shadowÖover the journal and its editors." Most interesting, they preemptively respond to any charges of homophobia by asserting that "the articulation of gay and lesbian issues was not at the center of this dispute."

Are any of these claims true? No and yes. Crimp told me about two conflicting precedents anent the publication of similar conference-paper packages: An issue devoted to a Copjec-organized Lacan conference for which some papers were rejected, and an issue devoted to a Krauss-organized panel that resulted in the publication of all the papers, despite the three other editors' objections about one of them. Krauss's recollection is different: "I never heard of any discussion re cutting one of the papers - I was in California," she said to me. Lengthy conversations with all the editors (save a curtly unresponsive Michelson) offered three unreconcilable visions of what actually transpired at the journal.

But a larger context may be more revealing. Two dozen on- and off-the-record conversations with October insiders and longtime observers yielded both a coherent picture of how October has functioned and why the "How Do I Look?" controversy was inevitable. The metaphor most frequently applied to the journal was that of a once happy family whose members have grown up, gone their own ways - and among whom little love is lost.

As the Èminences grises of the editorial quartet, NYU professor Michelson and (especially) CUNY professor Krauss have long been regarded as the embodiments of October, Copjec and Crimp were initially junior partners. The interests of the low-profile Copjec, a former student of Michelson who came on board as an editorial associate in 1981 and became a full editor in 1987, are narrowly focused on Lacanian theory. Crimp - a 46-year-old graduate student of Krauss's - became managing editor in 1977 and full editor in 1986. The only continuously paid, full-time staffer for 13 years, Crimp was widely seen as the editor responsible for minding the store.

Generational differences are central to this conflict. In a 1981 Art & Text interview, Krauss told Paul Taylor that "my generation is really the generation of the '60s...and I don't care about seeing young artists." But Crimp, despite his age, has shifted course to emerge as a paradigmatic '80s activist, due largely to the AIDS crisis. Crimp's hugely successful AIDS issue of 1987 ("AIDS: Cultural Analysis/Cultural Activism") signaled his evolution from academic theorist to theorist-activist ("It transformed my notion of what a journal could do about a crisis like AIDS," he told me) and became the best-selling October ever (5500 copies sold in a week, when the previous high print run had been 4000), prior to being republished as a book.

Crimp's interest in these matters brought October a new audience of gay, lesbian, and AIDS activists. At a time when social issues press heavily on art-world consciousness, widespread ambivalence about October is routinely expressed by members of the thirty-something generation who've come to power in today's art world. Artist/critic/Cal Arts dean (and onetime October contributor) Thomas Lawson observes that the journal is "less involved in contemporary art than it once was; there's too many arguments between academics. It's become a journal of the academy." Artist/critic/MoMA curator Robert Storr echoes Lawson's sentiments: "There's always something to provoke, but October's fallen into deep academe."

October's interest in political theory at the expense of community-based politics and diverse feminist voices has always made it somewhat elitist. The current issue features the first contributions by black writers in its history, and serious treatment of popular culture has never been a focus. But what's coming to be known as "identity politics" will be the bellwether issue. This included not just consideration of gay and lesbian representation, but also the practice of artists such as Karen Finley, whose work has been "legitimized" by deconstructive October theory, but never directly considered.

Krauss insists that with the help of a newly expanded advisory board, October intends to broaden its scope and not retreat from the areas of Crimp's concerns. (Crimp is planning to produce his own journal.) But it's difficult to reconcile her intention with what artist Tom Kalin - a member of Gran Fury and the Bad Object Choices collective, which organized the "How Do I Look?" conference - describes as "a long history of erotophobia."

This history began with Krauss's and Michelson's mid-'70s editorial departure from Artforum soon after the public expression of their displeasure over the infamous Lynda Benglis-with-dildo ad. (They called the ad "an object of extreme vulgarity.") Close observers of October are aware of the journal's penchant for running Surrealist photos of nude women, but as one source notes, "When a contemporary body is brought into the picture or used to challenge a gender construction, that's something else."

Erotophobia, like homophobia, can be proven only in extreme cases; usually it depends on interpretation. That the two rejected "How Do I Look?" papers deal with pornography - clearly the representational issue of the moment - may be no coincidence. An earlier, unpublished version of the editors' current "TO OUR READERS" column denigrates the two articles, saying they "involved an untheorized representation of sexual activity" and implying that theory should operate as a defense against the more plainly descriptive language of sex.