Notes from a Hired Pen: Remembering Dan McQuade

My friend Dan McQuade died of neuroendocrine cancer last week. He was 43 years old.

If you didn’t know Dan, you probably know his writing, especially if you lived in the Philadelphia region. A few highlights: he mapped out how far Rocky ran in Rocky II, which lead to the creation of the Rocky 50K; annually catalogued Wildwood boardwalk tshirts; tracked down how Princess Diana ended up with an Eagles jacket; and his reporting lead to the downfall of Bill Cosby.

I met Dan 20 years ago when we were both fresh onto the Philadelphia journalism scene, he on staff and me as a freelancer. Dan became a freelancer too, and we talked constantly about our work. He was much better at the writing part of it, but I was better at the business end of things. When he went on staff again, the last of which was at Defector, we kept talking about our work and our weird rabbit holes we’ve fallen into that have shaped both of our careers.

When we met, he really, truly wanted to be my friend. He didn’t have another agenda, and I can’t say that about most male editors and writers I met in my 20s. Someone who treats women like people is going to treat everyone like people. He was just the best of us.

And he had an incredible mind. We shared two library cards, and through his check out history I could see how wide his interests ran. He also texted me the absolutely wildest stuff, sometimes for fun, but sometimes for work, which is how I got to be part of the process of stories like fake quotes being used at a New Jersey Turnpike rest stop and why a Paulsboro, N.J. deli was valued at $100 million. Even now, I keep thinking that if I text him, he’ll respond and that this will be some terrible joke. We also talked about his very rare cancer, which I have written about for one of my university clients. He didn’t need to explain it to me because I understood, which was both a blessing (because I knew what he was dealing with) and a curse (for the same reason).

I learned Dan died after spending the day in Epcot. That morning, I went through the step and repeat of meeting Donald Duck in the Mexico pavilion. Usually it’s a hello and a smile for the camera, but this time, the character and the workers with him spent a long time with me, where they pointed out my Donald Duck sweatshirt and beret, and whoever was playing Donald marveled at my manicure. The worker took one photo of my face with a “is this for real?” look on it. Could that be considered odd? Of course. Even I thought so. But one of the reasons I dug so deep into the Donald Duck universe (which isn’t just about a cartoon duck but things like anti-fascists propaganda, the establishment of the income tax, and comic book history) is because Dan encouraged it, and routinely sent me listings of Donald Duck items he found for sale on Facebook Marketplace. He didn’t think it was weird. He thought it was fun, and wanted to learn too. I wasn’t the only one he did this with either, as shown by this list I compiled on Bluesky, and this lovely piece from David Thrope about stupid press releases they shared.

He had an incredible curiosity about the world around him, and wanted to bring people along with him on the adventure. I just wish he’d had another 43 years of them.

Dan is survived by his wife Jan Cohen, two-year-old son Simon, his parents and his mother-in-law. The family has asked for donations be made to The Everywhere Project, where he was a volunteer, in his honor.

Regular newsletter next week.

Jen A. Miller