Those old-time Chicago gangsters had nothing on us North End kids when it came to planning heists or robberies.

When summer time rolled along, we'd plan exactly when to go across the Bay or around the west end of it to help the hard-working north shore farmers with the picking of berries, melons, grapes, apples or peaches -- even if they hadn't asked us to help.

We'd know, almost to the day, when the different crops would be in their prime.

If we couldn't rent or "borrow" a rowboat to cross the bay, we'd take the long walk along the rail tracks from the freight yards below Dundurn Park to the north shore fruit farms.

Even that long walk was an adventure. We'd try to see how far we could walk along a single rail before losing our balance.

We'd try stepping only on every third wooden timber the tracks were spiked to. We'd pick up half-burned fusee to save till Halloween time. (Lighted fusee were stuck in between rails at nighttime to warn engineers of parked rail cars.)

And we'd count the number of cars in the train as it rumbled by.

Soon we'd be at the Thunder Bridge hollow and heading up the hill to where the north shore fruit farms began above Carrol's Point. The farms were almost side by side until Wabasso Park, now LaSalle Park.

Taking fruit from the various farms didn't make us feel guilty. We'd walked so far, we'd feel we'd earned it.

When some of the farmers would see us, they would shout at us or even sic their dogs on us, but we never got caught. For goodness sake, we could run fast, even with our pockets full of berries or our tucked-in T-shirts full of melons.

Of course, we intended to keep some of the fruits of our labours to give to our friends.

But somehow there never was any left to share with other kids in the North End.

Oh, well, next week, peaches will be ready for picking.

Ted Wilcox is a lifetime Hamiltonian with a passion for sports, community and, most of all, family.