Hat-check and cigarette girls turn in all their tips (except those they manage secretly to pocket). They are paid $30 or $35 a week and a percentage of tips over $1. Camera girls are permitted to keep their tips, turning the $1.50 per picture over to the concessionaire, who splits with the cabaret. The larger concessionaires have become the bankers of the night club business. Without them, half the town's clubs would not have been able to open in the first place. Some of the larger clubs reap up to $50,000 a year for the privilege of checking your kellys. This money is paid in advance to new clubs, often covering construction costs. The concessionaire takes a mortgage on the enterprise to protect his investment. When a club goes broke, the concessionaire finds himself in possession of it. To keep his girls working, he turns it over to another operator, advances more money, takes more mortgage. I CAN GET IT FOR YOU WHOLESALE: You'd be surprised how many guys make a living buying things for their friends "strictly at cost." This is the town where every inhabitant thinks he's a wise gee and squarely on the inside. So he figures that retail stores are strictly for chumps, strangers, and the other fellow. At the same time, practically everyone in New York either has a relative or knows someone with a relative who works in a wholesale house. When his friend, or even his relative, takes him to the showroom, he's convinced he's being let in on the ground floor. Prices in wholesale establishments are never marked on the ticket. So the wholesaler always jacks on a tidy sum, enough to take care of the steerer and give himself a neat profit (which he doesn't enter on the books and so doesn't pay tax on). And the wise chump goes out, happy and feeling privileged, whereas he probably paid more than if he had shopped over the counter at a reputable store. HOW TO BEAT THE HORSES: Some smart Gotham gazelles have worked out a sure-fire way to get a stake. Whereas most guys won't be touted by men, they don't look at it that way when a cute filly (homo sapiens, not equine) asks them to put a bet on a certain horse for her. Now, if she knows enough chumps and can get bets down on the three leading horses in any one race, it's practically positive she's going to collect on one. And no gent is going to ask the cutie to pay up for losers. (We don't recommend this unless the gams look nice in nylon.) THE "PRODUCERS": All these guys produce is a bank roll for themselves. They're usually good-looking middle-aged fellows who dance and drink well, sling clever small talk and know everyone. Their stock is their ability to flatter wealthy old dames and procure phone numbers of pert young patooties for wealthy old codgers.