Daniel J. Kraut

Full Name: Daniel J. Kraut
Date of Death: Friday, March 21, 2025
Daniel Kraut, an editor known for training reporters in local news and financial journalism, died on March 21, 2025. He was 55.
He had been battling amyotrophic lateral sclerosis since 2018, when doctors told him that he had 2 to 5 years to live.
Kraut worked most recently at Bloomberg, where he rose to prominence in the financial crisis and developed a reputation for nurturing young reporters, including many who moved into prominent roles at the news service and its most prominent rivals. Though he could be quick with a laugh and built a tradition of four team parties a year, Kraut never promised that working for him would be easy. In fact, he had a straightforward request for members of his team when they were approached by newcomers who expressed an interest in joining. "Don't sugarcoat it," he said. "We don't want anyone thinking this is all fun and games."
He loved keeping everyone on their toes, especially the interns, who were often assigned to sit next to him. A favorite tactic when news broke was to set a timer for 5 minutes on one of his computer screens and tilt it in front of the face of an intern so she would appreciate the urgency of filing the initial two-sentence take on the story, complete with all the required elements, as the 300 seconds ticked down to deadline. And when a reporter complained about a rival following the team's work without crediting Bloomberg for the scoop, his advice was simple: "Beat them again."
Kraut was born in New Brunswick, NJ, in 1969 to Leonard Kraut, who later became a medical doctor, and Anita Kraut, a homemaker. Foreshadowing his eventual career choice, he had a habit starting around age 7 of spreading the newspaper on the floor and, literally, climbing on top of it, with his elbows on the floor and his face in his hands, poring over baseball box scores and listings of which movies had the longest runs in local cinemas. As his arms grew longer and his mind expanded, he'd hold the paper while sitting and track the stock market and government news.
He graduated from Ocean Township High School and then the University of Chicago. Though his best subject as a child was math, and he was often asked if he'd follow his father into medicine, Kraut was a natural story teller who loved an audience. That passion drove him to journalism, where he was energized by the camaraderie of the newsroom and the possibility of learning something every day.
Among his first assignments was writing about agriculture while attending graduate school at the University of Maryland. That beat helped pushed him to vegetarianism, which was way less common in the 1990s than it is today.
The focus of his coverage shifted when he returned to New Jersey and began working at the Herald News in Passaic. He documented police corruption and a staged-accident ring in which drivers filled their cars with passengers and got in fender benders so everyone could generate insurance claims. Not long after, the state created the Office of the Insurance Fraud Prosecutor.
He moved to The Record in Hackensack and worked for several years as a reporter. Kraut became an editor in 2001, not long before Sept. 11, and volunteered on the afternoon of the attack for the role of coordinating coverage of local victims. "Make me cry," he instructed his reporters, a task they accomplished repeatedly. One story told of a husband who left behind a pregnant wife. He had a routine of singing the lyrics of a Stevie Wonder song to her belly. "You are the sunshine of my life, That's why I'll always be around."
Kraut married Eve Kohut, a social worker from New Mitford, in 2002. They were introduced four years earlier by Pam Weber-Leaf, a former colleague at the Herald News who went to high school with Kohut and felt like they'd be a good fit based on their Jewish faith, sense of humor and appreciation of the same musicians, starting with Bruce Springsteen and the Grateful Dead.
The couple moved to Fort Lee, where Kraut became a familiar figure, sporting long hair, a bushy beard and, starting in 2003, a newborn strapped to his chest. He estimated that he logged more than 3000 miles using the baby carrier and stroller for his two children, picking his spots based on the time of day and the mood of the moment, whether it was scouting out rabbits and deer, catching the sidewalk bustle after closing time at a bar, enjoying the solitude of a 24-hour store or visiting his co-op's laundry room, where neighbors took delight in seeing a baby.
As long as a kid was awake, Kraut kept talking, sharing his knowledge on photosynthesis, stormwater management, the architecture of the George Washington Bridge, or whatever was on his mind. He spoke only in adult voice, which led to some funny moments as the kids picked up his speech patterns, like when his 20-month-old son answered "indeed" or "certainly" to a question like, "do you want a banana?" Well into their teens, the kids would run into neighbors who would tell them, "I remember when your dad used to strap you onto his chest."
Kraut became more active in the community as his children grew older. As a co-coach of his daughter's softball team, he handled the fading art of keeping the scorebook. He avoided arguing with umpires and opposing coaches, offered nothing but encouragement to his team, and considered a game a success if there were no major injuries or lapses in sportsmanship. By that measure, he maintained a perfect record over many years. "Don't worry," he would assure in a tense situation. "We're getting ice cream no matter what." He also served on the board of the Gesher Shalom synagogue.
At The Record, he eventually became deputy business editor. When he stepped down in late 2006, management asked if he could handle a final shift on a day that was after his two weeks notice expired: December 25. He didn't have to be asked twice. He'd worked that day many times before and would do it many more times. He considered it a privilege, recalling how his father would work Christmas so colleagues could spend the holiday with their families.
He joined Bloomberg in New York early in 2007 as an editor and was assigned to the insurance team, based partly on his coverage of staged accidents back in Passaic. That knowledge proved to be of little relevance in his new position, given that the capital markets audience was increasingly fixated on reckless mortgage-based wagers in the industry, led by AIG. Here's what did translate from his prior roles: a strong work ethic, an insatiable curiosity, the discipline to read long documents and a focus on preparation and team building. Whatever the subject matter, Kraut was guided by a pair of principles. One is that while any editor can make a story better, the true professional makes sure that his colleagues get better. Second is that the reporters who beat the competition are the ones who have the best calendars and the superior Rolodexes, meaning that any "down" time should be spent planning ahead or building relationships with sources. He was later named insurance team leader.
Kraut also gained responsibilities helping the larger finance group with stories of banks in crisis. This is partly because he was among the early arrivals, thanks to his participation in car pools with other Manhattan-bound commuters who woke before sunrise to beat the bridge traffic. Over the years, the car pool partners came and went, but there was always a driver looking for someone reliable to help qualify for the multi-passenger discount on the bridge toll.
In his final journalism role, on the Top Desk, he arrived before 6 AM and was the first editor in New York to take the handoff from Europe to set up the front page on the Bloomberg terminal for the US audience.
Kraut dealt with ALS like any other challenge in his life, with a lot of determination and a little bit of humor. He kept his mind occupied with the same media he relied on since the 1970s, newspapers and the radio. His communication skills still came in handy, even after he lost the ability to type, hold a pen or even speak. Using eye-gaze technology, Kraut assembled what he called a "vault" of anecdotes, and he would delight visitors by playing his favorite stories with his talking computer.
He also gained respect among his medical staff by compiling a lengthy memo before each of his four visits a year, complete with observations about his interactions with the breathing machine and the various techniques he developed to harness its air for different goals, like clearing a nostril or expelling phlegm from down deep. Other patients surely had similar observations, he was told. But given that the ALS makes communication so hard, none provided quite the same view about struggle and survival.
The challenges increasingly came to overwhelm the solutions as ALS tightened its grip. The fits of gagging, coughing, and gasping for air became more frequent and more severe. Though Kraut overcame many such attacks, there were plenty of times in his last year when it seemed he was minutes from death. When he finally expelled the obstruction, his body was exhausted and overheated to the point where he needed the window open, even when temperatures were freezing. When his body finally settled, he would enter a favorite phrase the into the computer, celebrating the teamwork with Eve that helped him stare down death so many times. "Still undefeated."
He always loved saying surprising things at surprising times, especially when there was a large audience, like at a wedding or even a funeral or memorial service. His toasts at work farewell celebrations were legendary, like when he said at a gathering for a beloved newsroom leader, "let's be honest, we have all been embarrassed by this man."
It was all part of a no-regrets approach that marked his life until the end. Still, there was one speech where he wished he could have a do over. It was at his own wedding, and he was somehow talked out of telling one of his favorite stories. Better late than never, though, so here it is:
Before the couple got married, they rarely saw each other on weekdays, so there was quite a bit of excitement when they got together on Friday nights. That got Eve wondering if there would be such passionate moments after the wedding, when being in the same apartment was the everyday norm. "Absolutely," Kraut answered, "The more you have a taste of something good, the better it gets, and the more anticipation there is for the next time."
Still, she wasn't convinced. "Wait," she said. "You love ice cream, but a're you telling me that if you have ice cream for dessert three or four nights in a row, you would still want it the next night?"
"Eve," he answered, with his voice rising for emphasis. "I have had ice cream every single night for as long as I can remember." it was true and they both knew it.
He is predeceased by his father Leonard Kraut who died in 1998. Survivors include his wife, Eve Kohut, and their children, Leonard and Livia Kraut, of Fort Lee; his mother, Anita Kraut of Ocean Township; a sister, Rachel Sivorinovsky, her husband Martin and their son Samuel of Tenafly; as well as many nieces and nephews and grand nieces and nephews.
Mourners are invited to make donations in his memory to ALS United, 90.5 the Night, or their favorite non-commercial radio station.