ToquiNotes: City Mount Rushmore of Kindness? If so, Go Ahead, Reserve a Spot for Late Sonny Donaldson
By Jeff Toquinto on September 12, 2026 from ToquiNotes
Whether it is on social media, casual conversation, or a debate among strangers at a bar, many of us have frequently been lured into the talk of a “Mount Rushmore” of sports greats, political greats, local legends, and more.
You have even seen it on here. More than once, I have focused my sports blog on the greatest coaches in Bridgeport High School’s long history. Every single time, the blog draws a ton of traffic and plenty of mostly good-natured debate.
This week, though, I started thinking about another type of Mount Rushmore for Bridgeport and Harrison County. And that would be to find the four kindest individuals living here and have them forever lauded for being good to others.
Unfortunately, the thought process was brought to the forefront shortly after Thursday, Sept. 3. It was on that day that Sheddrick Donaldson, Jr. of Bridgeport passed away at the age of 85.
Everyone knew him as Sonny. And if you want to spell it “Sunny” that would be okay, too, because few people ever brought us much light and joy into everyone they encountered that Sheddrick Donaldson, Jr.
For those that had the privilege of knowing Sonny, anything I say in this blog will not be surprising. He was decent from the inside out. For those who do not know him, I hope you take a second to read about what made him special.
I got to see it decades ago when I first met him while his daughter, Dr. Angela (Oglesby) Cherry was playing basketball at Bridgeport High School, I believe that was in the early to mid-1990s. He was always polite, always asked how I was doing, and never once complained 
about coverage or anything of that nature.
about coverage or anything of that nature.
When I ventured out of the sports journalism world and into a couple of engineering gigs and more writing of news and features, I would only see him occasionally. Sonny always spoke, even though I was certain then he remembered a face and not a name. He did not need to know your name to extend his kindness.
Several years ago, Sonny’s Washington Irving classmates began having lunch at the F.O.P. in Nutter Fort twice a month. One of his classmates who graduated with him in 1958 was Nancy Hendren. She would later become Nancy Hendren Toquinto Holt. And, yes, as the name change gave away, she was my mother.
My mother and her husband Jim loved the luncheons. Frequently before she passed away last year, she would talk about the luncheons on our regular phone or in-person conversations. Often, Sonny’s name would come up.
Mom talked frequently how Sonny would make sure everyone was okay. If they did not show up and were expected to, Sonny called to make sure they were okay. On more than one occasion, mom told me that someone not showing up would tell Sonny on the phone that they did not have a ride or needed help to get into a car and that was the reason for the absence.
That was no problem. Mom told me Sonny simply left and transported the classmate to and from the luncheons.
The kindness, as it turns out, was his calling card at every stop in life. I can’t speak for his decades of work with Bell Atlantic (although I have zero doubt it played out there), but his two careers covering 30 years with Harry Green Chevrolet as a car salesman and then as the driver of the courtesy van allowed me to learn plenty of his kindness.
Ironically, it was during his time as a driver that I got to run into Sonny as he picked me up to get my vehicle after a repair. He greeted me, not surprising, with a smile and a pleasant exchange.
I told him how I knew him from his daughter’s basketball games, and who my mother was. From that point forward, whenever I saw Sonny, we talked. And that conversation was like everyone after, good, but too quick for my liking.
When I got out and told the woman in the service department that it was great riding with Sonny, she smiled and, I’m paraphrasing here, said, “We hear that from about everyone. He’s the most popular person here.”
Although it was not often I ran into him after that, he always asked about my mother and Jim when I did. In January of 2023, I got to talk to Sonny and, in some small way, was able to give him the respect he was due for being so good to so many.
It was at that time that Sonny announced his retirement from Harry Green as the van driver. I inquired with a few folks I knew at Harry 
Green to confirm what I already knew from seeing him there, seeing him in public, hearing about him with his friends, he was the genuine article. Over and over, the term “beloved” came up. I am not sure if that even covered it.
Green to confirm what I already knew from seeing him there, seeing him in public, hearing about him with his friends, he was the genuine article. Over and over, the term “beloved” came up. I am not sure if that even covered it.
So, at that time, I called Sonny and asked if I could interview him about him leaving Harry Green. Although he did not understand the fuss, he agreed. What resulted was an article that received thousands of interactions on our social media platforms and tens of thousands of clicks and views.
Not one piece of feedback was negative. In the world of social media that is a rare trick.
I pulled a couple of comments from the story. They both show the essence of the man.
“I’ve driven thousands and thousands of people, every bit of that,” Donaldson said with a laugh, “and I’ve enjoyed just about every second of it.”
Again, I have zero doubt about that. I also have zero doubt those that drove with him, even if they did not know him, felt better for their time with him. This was the quote that showed a bit about the core of Sonny Donaldson, who knew a lot of folks he was driving were less
than happy.
than happy.
“When they came into the van, you could sometimes see they were stressed by the situation,” said Donaldson. “My goal was that I wanted to make sure they had a smile on their face when they got out of the vehicle. I wanted to make sure if they were heated up over whatever situation they might be in, that you might say it was important for me to get that temperature to drop.”
He did. He also made the temperature drop and could produce a smile. Again, I know it firsthand away from his professional career.
Sonny was there during the viewing for my mother’s funeral. His smile, his kind words – that I know he’s shared with too many to mention in a time of grief – proved to be an emotional cast for a broken soul that day.
To Sonny, it was a chance to pay respect and ease someone’s burden. To a man who had professional careers on multiple fronts, I realized that day his real life’s work was bringing joy to others.
There is no better tribute than to say the man who was laid to rest this past Thursday, Sept. 10 was a good man. For so many, Sonny was the kindness yacht in a world filled with troubled waters. And he had room on board for everyone.
The best part? As good as he was to his friends, he was even better to family. He was a father, husband, grandfather, and brother. He earned his kindness badge on each of those fronts as well. How lucky were we that they shared him with the rest of us.
I do not know about you, but if Bridgeport ever finds a place for its own Mount Rushmore of Kindness, Sheddrick “Sonny” Donaldson, Jr. needs to be on it.
He chose to be kind. Every single time. There is no better legacy.
Rest in peace Sonny. Your work here is done.
Editor's Note: Top photo and cover photo show Sonny Donaldson during his time as a driver for Harry Green. Second image shows him with his mother Mary Donaldson, while he is shown with friend Hugh "Bucky" Wolfe in 2019 when he was named king of the West Virginia Black Heritage Festival. In the fourth image, he's shown with his granddaughter Jocelyn Sykes, while in the bottom picture Sonny is shown with his wife Terri.
.jpg)
