Dan Eggen, 1966-2026
Short summary
A former colleague reflects on working with Dan Eggen, from pitching stories together to surviving sudden layoffs at The Washington Post. He highlights Eggen’s sharp editing skills, enthusiasm for journalism, and his legacy as a mentor before his recent passing.
- Dan Eggen was laid off from The Washington Post after nearly 30 years, then died shortly after landing at The Star.
- His editing instincts drove notable stories, like tracing a model triumphal arch on Trump's desk and joking that a proper map could defuse the Greenland dispute.
- His nearly three-decade career ranged from local oddities (bats, dog waste) to Pulitzer-winning 9/11 coverage and deep investigations into political money.
- He was known for mentoring and encouraging colleagues, many of whom now hold prominent journalism positions worldwide.
Full summary
I dropped by Dan Eggen’s desk one morning to follow up on a Trump-government story we’d been planning. He was sharp-tongued about a recent political decision, still cracking jokes and pushing our angles—even as massive layoffs hit The Washington Post. Within hours, Dan was gone, suddenly uprooted after nearly 30 years at the paper. He landed at The Star, kept cheering on former colleagues, then died this week, leaving behind a grieving family and a far-flung network of journalists he mentored.
Dan had an uncanny sense for storytelling. He could tighten a lede or headline until it shone. In October, he nudged me to track down why a model triumphal arch was on the president’s desk—a tip that became central to our coverage of Trump’s government shake-up. When the White House argued over Greenland, Dan quipped that simply showing an accurate map instead of the Mercator projection might avert a crisis.
His Post career stretched from reporting on bat colonies and dog waste to chasing poker lobbyists and spies. He contributed to Pulitzer-winning 9/11 coverage and spent years exposing money in politics, tracing conservative donations, mapping fundraising calls by presidents. His bylines spanned government secrecy and everyday oddities, a testament to his range and his drive to shine light on overlooked stories.
Colleagues remember Dan as relentlessly supportive. He’d text encouragement, post coworkers’ scoops on social media and answer messages past midnight. The reporters he trained now fill front pages around the world, each byline a small echo of his influence.