In times of financial upheaval, private jets and lavish estates might be sacrificed in the name of liquidity, but one perquisite that most oligarchs are loath to part with is a power table at their favorite restaurant.

In the heart of the city, a corps of maitre d's maintains a hierarchy, more dynamic than any mere social register, with their daily triage of diners. Using an unwritten, unacknowledged code, they assess power, wealth and influence in an instant. At Fearing's it's young Alex Aland, at Charlie Palmer it's veteran Enam Chowdhury and at the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek it's Brian Perry.

Once upon a time, maitre d' Jean Pierre Albertinetti wielded a monarch's prerogative to confer and revoke noble rank. From 1981 to 1989 when he ran the dining room at The Mansion, it was the epicenter of affluence and prestige in Dallas. When Mr. Albertinetti led a guest to a table in the main dining room, he or she could feel the metaphorical sword tap on the shoulder – made a knight of the realm. A seat at one of the four banquettes at the front of the room was akin to an earldom.

But a fast trip through the dining room and into the narrow, dimly lit veranda was the walk of shame.

"At The Mansion, where people sat was extremely important to them," says Mr. Albertinetti. "Guests used to call the veranda Siberia. The library was a beautiful room. I used to love to eat in that room. But people would say, 'I cannot sit in the library.' The idea was that if they were in the library, they were not seen. What could I do? The main dining room only had 16 tables."

"I'd say 75 percent of the customers don't care where they sit," says Bob Sambol, owner of Bob's Steak & Chop House on Lemmon Avenue. "But the 25 percent who do care are disproportionately bigger spenders and are usually very influential."

He should know. When T. Boone Pickens, Tom Hicks or Jerry Jones want a steak and a full-bodied cabernet, Bob's is their go-to spot.

"They want one of two things," says Mr. Sambol. "They either want to sit where the action is or they want to sit where the action isn't."

At Bob's the action is at the big round tables in the front room visible to all. Mike Modano and Dirk Nowitzki are regulars. "I put the young guys at the big rounds," says Mr. Sambol. "I don't think Modano or Dirk care, but their friends enjoy it."

Conversely, Boone Pickens periodically dines with his hedge fund brain trust in Bob's private room. "He comes in the back door without having to go through the restaurant," says Mr. Sambol.

The same goes for Troy Aikman, who recently hosted his Fox football colleagues in the back. "I just put him there without asking," says Mr. Sambol. "The last thing Troy wants is more fame or more attention."

Mr. Sambol's friend and competitor Al Biernat performs similar choreography at his namesake steakhouse. D magazine publisher Wick Allison habitually sits in the center of the room at the back where he can see the pageant without being a part of it. Jerry Jones and his son Stephen will often take potential Cowboys hires to Al's private room away from prying eyes.

And the hierarchical nature of the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek has literally gone underground. "The Mansion is still a place where deals get done," says Rosewood executive Bob Boulogne, "but now it happens in rooms that offer seclusion rather than putting people front and center. The wine cellar is very popular for that."

Gone from the restaurant almost 20 years, Mr. Albertinetti now runs the dining room at Highland Park Village's clubby Cafe Pacific, the closest thing Dallas has to New York's La Grenouille, where the staff has an almost telepathic knowledge of regulars' whims.

"There may be three great maitre d's in this town," says Robert Colombo, the owner of the eateries Trece, Villa O and the Club, "Jean Pierre is at the top of that list."

Happily for Mr. Albertinetti, Cafe Pacific is more of a theater-in-the- round than the Mansion.

Owner Jack Knox strenuously deflects any notion that his restaurant has power tables. Yet one can't help but notice Margot and Ross Perot always in the "bullpen" center section at the second table on the right. Beer distributor Barry Andrews and his wife, Lana, are also bullpen regulars, as are Diana and Rick Strauss. Power lawyer Don Godwin and his wife, Carmen, like the window tables looking out at bucolic Highland Park, and on Saturdays philanthropist Nancy Dedman will join pals Nancy Lemmon, Carol Poston and Carole Lee at a window table.

"We have regular customers and they have their favorite tables," says Mr. Knox. "But they choose, we don't. If Jean Pierre knows they're coming, he'll hold their table for them."

Logically then, it follows that Joe Six-pack won't get near Cafe Pacific's prestigious round table on nights when oil giants Ed Cox and Cary Maguire or car dealer Carl Sewell are on the books.

Mr. Knox, whose sophistication and refined tastes belie his rural upbringing near Weatherford, is unapologetic. "Look, no hick from Weatherford who happened to graduate from SMU is going to wander into the Four Seasons in New York and get Henry Kissinger's table, either," he says.