Discover more from The Mercenary Pen
The Man Who Killed JP Morgan
Samuel Untermyer takes on the Old Man of high finance
James Pierpont Morgan came into town as Washington DC got ready for Christmas. The leadership of the House of Morgan approached Congress arm in arm: Pierpont, his daughter Louisa, and his son and heir to the empire, Jack. The year was 1912 and they faced a tough crowd.
The “Old Man” of high finance was in town to testify before Congress in a show of public comment by the master of American business combination. Under investigation: Morgan’s central role in the concentration of financial power in America. In the wake of a devastating recession a conspiracy theory of money, called the “Money Trust,” had captured the public imagination and invigorated a rare bipartisan consensus. Morgan would face down a Jewish Democrat Progressive, Samuel Untermyer, in a contest of wills, answering to the charges of conspiracy by Untermyer, members of Congress, and the nation.
This article will deal with the Congressional investigation that thrust Untermyer, an underexamined Progressive figure, into the center of a national conversation about the contours of a corrupt financial system. A supposed “class traitor” who ran in the same socialite circles as Morgan, Untermyer walked away from the Congressional investigation with a level of fame he’d spent a lifetime cultivating, ready to lead America to a new age of financial power.
It would be an age JP Morgan would not live to see.
(The following article is the short form of a longer Tinderbox podcast episode about Sam Untermyer and the Pujo Committee hearings.)
Born in 1858, Sam Untermyer spent formative years in the rolling foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. Born to a family of emigree Bavarian Jews, Sam childhood began with his siblings in the tobacco fields of his father, who’d been a lieutenant in the Confederate Army. Upon the patriarch’s death, and the resulting impoverishment of the family, the Untermyers fled the countryside.
It was in New York City that Untermyer found the calling that defined his life. Serving as a law clerk at 15, then armed with a law degree from Columbia, Untermyer, his brother, his half-brother, and other associates hung the shingle out and went to work as Guggenheimer, Untermyer & Marshall, starting in 1874, and continuing the family enterprise of corporate lawfare for almost forty years.
Making his first million by age 30, Untermyer had a gift for forthright action. In his 20’s he cemented legendary status among attorneys by trying more cases in town than any other lawyer. At first he represented divorcees seeking restitution and handled real estate transactions. His boldness soon had him representing giants. He famously strode into the Directors meeting of a firm that wouldn’t answer his letters and demanded answers to his questions on the spot.
Court transcripts show a man with a relentless style of interrogation and writing. Untermyer worked in the Socratic method the way others work in clay or watercolors. And his prose seethes. In published missives to the editors of the Gray Lady, he pilloried opponents of his clients as having “a vicious deliberate intent to mislead by a mass of wild, reckless, unfounded assertions.” In a letter to then-governor of New York Teddy Roosevelt, he accused a Grand Jury at odds with his client of “monstrously unjust” behavior and said their opposition was “unsupported by so much as a semblance of evidence.”
You get the idea. Sometimes Untermyer’s prose reads like a soccer player howling about a faked injury. That said, engaging Untermyer on behalf of your firm meant merciless pursuit of your courtroom foes.
Like most corporate lawyers of the Gilded Age, Untermyer had complicated views on the combination business. The latter half of the 19th century saw the evolution of immense corporate power in America. JP Morgan was the most famous of these corporate monopolists, building a portfolio of interests that made him the most powerful man in America.
Untermyer too waded right into the birth of trusts. I even found Untermyer defending a “wallpaper trust.” Remember life before latex paint, remember wallpaper? Around the turn of the 20th century, He complained that, “The wall paper business of late years has become very much demoralized through cutting in prices, which has led to the making of inferior goods.” Untermyer insisted that in no way was the merger of multiple wallpaper companies anything other than “a benefit to the consumer.” The solution for everyone? Combination. Mergers were the panacea of business problems. When in doubt, combine. You’ll find him facilitating combinations like the merger of Utah Copper Company and Boston Consolidated. That 1910 settlement landed him the largest fee recorded at the time, $775,000, somewhere around $20 million in today’s dollars.
The Jewish-Confederate farm boy turned new money millionaire also had a desperate need for recognition in high society. He purchased a country estate on the Hudson named Greystone and turned it into the anchor for his push into the New York Social scene. It must have seemed like a deam for him and the rest of his family. 99 rooms on 140 acres of land in Yonkers was a far cry from rural Virginia. At Greystone Untermyer built up show-winning kennels and created Persian-style gardens. He hosted grand parties, bringing 30,000 people through those gardens in a single day.
As a Jew practicing law in the Gilded Age, Untermyer would have been a rare ethnic minority in a world of words ruled by ostentatious Anglo-American figures like Howe and Hummel. Untermyer reportedly adopted the persona of a southern gentleman, waxing about his childhood working on his father’s tobacco farm. I suspect he acted the part to blend in.
While a minority, Untermyer did not let his ancestry stop him from, for instance, defending religious pluralism. He represented a Christian Scientist, named Willis Vernon Cole, put on trial for practicing medicine without a license, on the grounds of religious freedom. It took several decades for Untermyer to begin to wear his Jewish faith and ancestry on his sleeve, but that’s a story for another piece on the activist work of his later years.
A turning point arrived in Untermyer’s life, conveniently after he’d made most of his fortune. Around 1910, Untermyer began to make moves challenging the vast monopolization schemes of the time. Most notably, his took on a client in Waters-Pierce, an oil company with a complicated relationship to post-trust-busted Standard Oil. When he managed to get the case to trial, Untermyer turned it into a public spectacle of how powerful Standard Oil remained, even after the Supreme Court ruled against the monopoly. Untermyer famously put John D. Rockefeller Sr. on the stand, trying, though not entirely succeeding, in showing that Standard Oil still had clout in violation of the SCOTUS breakup order. In a bizarre testimony, where Rockefeller went on the record saying, “I’m afraid I was a little stupid today and I didn’t understand all your questions,” Untermyer demanded to know the inner workings of Standard Oil, including how decisions about governance were made. Nobody was surprised when the well-prepared Rockefeller weaseled out of every question. But Untermyer had made his point. Standard Oil stood down in their pursuit of Waters-Pierce.
Putting Rockefeller on the stand would be a trial run for Untermyer’s eventual pursuit of JP Morgan in Congress.
I don’t have record of the first time that Sam Untermyer met JP Morgan. But I did find some widely publicized clashes of theirs. Before the two men would battle about high finance in 1912, they went head-to-head, or should I say, muzzle to muzzle, in dog breeding competitions. The irony isn’t lost on me that Untermyer, the Virginia-born Jewish newcomer, competed in a matter of publicized canine ancestry against JP Morgan, the robber baron whose uncle wrote “Jingle Bells.” Untermyer had built up a significant kennel to rival Morgan’s. As breeding and perhaps just plain old money would have it, Untermyer did not ever seem to best Morgan in the breeding game.
Untermyer would get the best of Morgan in a contest of wills that left the kennel contests behind. He became the front man by identifying the “Money Trust,” what can only be described as a publicly-acceptable conspiracy theory of money.
At the Financial Forum business conference in 1911, Untermyer gave a speech entitled “Is There a Money Trust?”. He asserted that an extensive network of monied interests had outsize power over the financial system. It was no “definite union”. It had no formal agreement, no charter, no origination paperwork. But it held incredible sway over the lives of Americans:
“If, however, we mean by this loose elastic term Trust, as applied to the concentration of Money Power that there is a close and well-defined community of interest and understanding among the men who dominate the financial destinies of our country and who wield fabulous power over the fortunes of others through their control of corporate funds belonging to other people, our investigators will find a situation confronting us far more serious than is popularly supposed to exist.”
The passage teases at a nefarious plot to control the dollar bill. The goods were just out of reach. While there was no proof of this Money Trust, Untermyer said, there was organization and coordination ready to be found. And it was bigger than the public knew. Untermyer looked for someone to give him license to pursue the Money Trust with his ferocious focus. His bird-dogging of the Money Trust was a matter of Progressive beliefs and his political leanings at the time. But I suspect some part of it was a form of payback against the Morgan clan for allegedly blocking him from running for the Senate.
The world was ready to let him pursue the conspiracy. By harnessing discontent and giving the right speech at the right time, Untermyer catapulted himself into the halls of Congress as chief legal counsel to a committee designed to interrogate the Money Trust.
A rising tide of anti-banking and anti-corporate sentiment bubbled through America. The anger stemmed from the hangover of the Panic of 1907. A rapid stock market crash produced a miserable recession. It took swift action by figures of the Gilded Age to bail out the system. A cadre of financial fat cats, led by JP Morgan, chose the winners and losers of 1907, lending to favored companies, buying up the assets of failing companies, and making themselves more powerful in the process. The phrase “smoke filled rooms” wouldn’t be coined until the 1920 Presidential Election, but let’s just say that JP Morgan’s 1907 conferences to save the financial system had a healthy haze. Even trust-busting Teddy Roosevelt had his hand forced by the Wall Street cabal, needing to approve the merger of US Steel – yes, JP Morgan’s US Steel – to keep the credit system from crumbling. Teddy struck an apologetic tone about it later: "I do not believe that anyone could justly criticize me for saying that I would not feel like objecting to the purchase under those circumstances"
In the direct aftermath of the crash, newspapers and Wall Street insiders praised JP Morgan for his magnanimity, forbearance, even charity. The Old Man of the financial system had saved everyone’s bacon.
The resultant recession soured that popular sentiment. Without an FDIC, bank runs turned the 100-yard dash into matter of personal bankruptcy. Unemployment spiked. Congress, always slow to act against the interests of the power, started to stir. The big names on Capitol Hill, among them Senator Nelson Aldrich and Representative Charles Lindbergh Sr., made noises about reform.
Each of the chambers started committees research the problem. In the House it was the Pujo Committee, named after Louisiana Representative Arsene Pujo, which would take up the cause of understanding the corporate power structures of the Money Trust. I’ll keep Pujo’s name on the committee for convenience’s sake, but all involved recognized that Untermyer held the reins. As chief counsel to the Pujo Committee, Untermyer had the backing of the House of Representatives and would design an investigation that would prove how interconnected the financial world had become.
If Untermyer thought his socialite status, corporate law background, mastery of media, and ability to blow your head off with a vicious line of questioning would get him answers, he ran into disappointment. William Rockefeller, for instance, refused to testify and evaded his subpoena. When the Pujo Committee posted men outside his residences to serve him, Rockefeller took side doors or slipped away. After their previous encounter with Untermyer in the Standard Oil case, the Rockefeller clan didn’t have any interest in treating with him again. Other figures of the post-Gilded Age like George Baker mired Untermyer’s subpoenas in disputes over the Pujo Committee’s charter. President Taft’s Treasury Department wouldn’t hand over critical financial filings. Untermyer would only get a fraction of the information he sought.
The Pujo Committee’s charter dealt with three subjects. First it tackled the “clearing houses,” the apparatus of check-routing and bookkeeping among banks and financial institutions. It probably won’t surprise you to learn that in the 19-teens, clearing houses had little regulation and the usual suspects played a large part in how they did business. Second, the Pujo Committee absolved stock exchanges of much regulation, though they called out derivatives. Derivatives in the 19-teens look about the same as they did in 2008. But it was the third section, Concentration and Control of Money and Credit, that delivered the goods.
Untermyer wrote that the Committee could not establish that a Money Trust existed, per se, but insisted that the conspiracy performed its role in a much looser fashion. Sounds familiar? It was the same tease he’d placed in his 1911 talk on the Money Trust:
“… we are unable to say that the existence of a money trust exists in [a] broad bald sense of the term, although the committee regrets to find that… surprisingly many of the elements of such a combination exist.”
After all, how do you prove a conspiracy? Especially in high finance, an industry notorious for its jargon, insider knowledge, and vicious scrabbling for competitive advantage. A visual aid would help prove the point. So Untermyer created the equivalent of a Congressional yarn wall.
A yarn wall is what I affectionately call the craft exercise used by detectives in police procedurals: a cop, as they get too deep into a case and come undone, begins to draw lines of yarn between newspaper articles, photographs, and other artifacts. Untermyer brought in a statistician to draw out the connections between the major Wall Street players in a spreadsheet that should go down as one of the greatest in Congressional history. I also highly recommend checking out the visual chart of Morgan’s connections which went into the Congressional record with the Pujo Committee report. It’s hard, if not impossible, to imagine Congress going through this kind of exercise today.
Down the left-hand column of the Pujo Committee report’s pre-Excel spreadsheet you’ll see the recipient of the loan. The next set of columns shows a handful of banking institutions that included JP Morgan & Company, the National City Bank of New York (today, Citibank), Kidder Peabody and Company, and the rest of the large lenders.
The statistician found that significant loans were either issued by the same few companies, or issued in partnership with them. The swirls and eddies of the Money Trust worked in a predictable way, pointing right to the most powerful interests of the day. To drive the point home, the Pujo Committee presented the statistician’s findings on the same morning that they called their star witness: JP Morgan.
To give you flavor for this occasion, think of the political situation in DC at the time: Woodrow Wilson, a Democrat academic who’d made his name as president of Princeton, had just won the presidency. Wilson’s victory in 1912 could in part be blamed, or praised, because trust-buster Teddy Roosevelt had come to the contest wearing moose antlers, spoiling the election for former colleague William Howard Taft.
The change in administration put blood in the water. Progressive Democrats like Untermeyer must have felt ascendant. In some commentary Untermyer himself provided on the three-way race of 1912, he villainized Wall Street: “I wonder whether these gentlemen on Wall Street will ever realize that the country is heartily sick and tired of their blighting and corrupting influence in our political life, and that their support [of Taft] is justly the heaviest handicap a political candidate can have, notwithstanding the funds which they may have secretly fed to his campaign?” Wilson, apparently not the Wall Street choice, was a fellow intellectual southerner with Confederate leanings. Republicans in Congress like Nelson Aldrich had big plans for the financial system, and none of it involved JP Morgan’s primacy.
We’ve arrived at the showdown: Untermeyer, empowered by Congress, versus JP Morgan, the filthy rich fat cat. Dressed in his typical dark colors, Morgan took the stand December 18th and 19th, 1912, a little over 5 years from the Panic of 1907, and went under oath. Neither had it easy. Untermyer had to perform. He’d made serious accusations against the most powerful men in the world.
Morgan had to avoid legal landmines and defend what remained of his legacy. For most of his life, Morgan was known for turning red and bellowing when he didn’t get his way. But the Morgan that sat down in the big seat in the winter of 1912 wasn’t a bundle of barely restrained fury. He was contrite. Maybe even humble. He told Untermeyer, “Anything that you would like to ask I will try to answer.” Morgan said that he would stand by anything his partners did and would accept final responsibility for any mistakes made.
The House of Morgan, who’d moved mountains to stop the Pujo Committee’s work, reportedly despised Untermeyer as a class traitor putting the broken pieces of JP Morgan’s empire to the torch. Untermyer, to them, was there to finish the job Roosevelt started. One of the Morgan partners even played with the idea of starting a media smear campaign against Untermeyer as an irresponsible muck racker. They inoculated Morgan against lines of attack that Untermyer would use and hoped for the best.
Untermeyer may have been saved by his lack of animosity toward JP Morgan. Besides the unfortunate competitiveness of dog breeding, Untermeyer didn’t seem to see the Pujo Committee’s activities as personal, but instead as part of an inevitable lurch towards Progressivism. Untermeyer had nothing against the motives of the big financial fat cats, but instead thought that there needed to be a set of rules in place to regulate their activities.
Their exchange revealed the way JP Morgan saw the role of high finance in relation to society. Or, at least, the way Morgan wanted people to think he saw his role in society. Because you have to consider whether JP Morgan played a character in testimony at the twilight of his life. Was this what Morgan really thought? Or was Morgan putting on Congress and America?
We’ll quote the most notable section here at length, because it’s truly a unique exchange. For context, Sam Untermeyer is trying to find out from JP Morgan how someone gets credit. How do you decide who gets a loan? How do you decide, when you’re at JP Morgan’s level, what bank to bail out, like in the 1907 Panic?
· Mr. UNTERMYER. Is not commercial credit based primarily upon money or property?
· Mr. MORGAN. No, sir; the first thing is character.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. Before money or property?
· Mr. MORGAN. Before money or anything else. Money cannot buy it.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. So that a man with character, without anything at all behind it, can get all the credit he wants, and a man with the property can not get it?
· Mr. MORGAN. That is very often the case.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. But that is the rule of business?
· Mr. MORGAN. That is the rule of business, sir.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. If that is the rule of business, Mr. Morgan, why do the banks demand, the first thing they ask, a statement of what the man has got, before they extend him credit?
· Mr. MORGAN. That is what they go into; but the first thing they say is, “We want to see your record.”
· Mr. UNTERMYER. Yes; and if his record is a blank, the next thing is how much has he got?
· Mr. MORGAN. People do not care, then.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. For instance, if he has got Government bonds or railroad bonds, and goes into get credit, he gets it, and on the security of those bonds, does he not?
· Mr. MORGAN. Yes.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. He does not get it on his face or his character, does he?
· Mr. MORGAN. Yes; he gets it on his character.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. I see; then he might as well take the bonds home, had he not?
· Mr. MORGAN. Because a man I do not trust could not get money from me on all the bonds in Christendom.
· Mr. UNTERMYER. That is the rule all over, the world?
· Mr. MORGAN. I think that is the fundamental basis of business.
Here you have JP Morgan, under oath in the twilight of his career, saying that the foundation of business, of lending and credit, is character. Money can’t even buy character. Not for all the bonds in Christendom. Interesting choice of words with Untermyer doing the questioning.
Yet before I say that Morgan is just being evasive, or being obnoxious - and I want to - I also want to take a step back. To an extent, I think he was being accurate about his own view of credit, lending, and business. Because when you got to JP Morgan’s level, a person who made the high society spectacle of Sam Untermyer look like a pauper, money ceases to exist. Wealth is a series of relationships of uncertain value. A man like JP Morgan did not measure dollars and cents, but instead, characters. Every one of those characters was rich, or they’d never make it to his office. But once there, men at his level did not talk about money, but who they could trust. JP Morgan also said in his testimony in front of the Pujo Committee that he had no power over anything, including his own company. No one, he seemed to think, could control money in America because it was overwhelmingly based on character.
If Morgan saw the course of business as an enterprise of abstract individuals engaged in a phenomenological game, he couldn’t abstract the realities of his testimony. Being hard of hearing, he eventually sat only a few feet from Sam Untermyer and had to answer to the man’s expert, rapid questioning. Over the course of the two days, Morgan’s health began to fail. The Times reported that Morgan was animated but, “Frequently, however, Mr. Morgan dropped his jaw and opened his mouth as if gasping for breath. It was learned later that this was due to a slight cold he had contracted.”
Daughter Louisa Morgan expressed worry about her father’s health with all the pressure of being under oath. His son Jack, the man who would inherit the throne if the Old Man kicked the bucket, told anyone who asked that his father was in splendid form.
Untermeyer’s committee would reject, with his signature righteous rage, much of Morgan’s testimony. I think that if this wasn’t being published in the Congressional record, they’d have been downright rude. The Pujo Committee was furious that Morgan would be so obtuse. In response to Morgan saying he not only had no power, and all that mattered was character, the Committee wrote that Morgan’s testimony had shown that his “conception of what constitutes power and control in the financial world is so peculiar so as to invalidate all his conclusions based upon it.”
If Untermyer thought he’d get anything other than a bizarre testimony from Morgan, I think he was being naïve, especially after his experience with Rockefeller. Yet Untermyer probably also realized the great power in putting these men on the stand. He’d won once by exposing them as evasive and out of touch with reality, why not again?
In January of 1913, only weeks after wrapping up his stressful testimony, and before the release of the Pujo Committee’s report, JP Morgan went abroad with his daughter Louisa. First, he hit Egypt, then Rome. Europe had been a comfort to Morgan in his later years. He told a close associate that he had to consider the possibility that he might never return to America.
Untermeyer officially released his committee’s report February 28th, 1913, with all of its scathing criticism of Morgan and his empire. In sum, they found that the incredible power of the Money Trust crippled innovation, destroyed competition, and endangered the country. The press published large sections of it. Woodrow Wilson gave it a firm nod. Louis Brandeis, a colleague of Untermyer and only a few years away from a seat on the Supreme Court, serialized his book in Harper’s Magazine, “Other People’s Money and How the Bankers Use It,” more or less summarizing the findings of the Pujo Committee and adding his own take to the Committee’s verbose critique. The country, in other words, ate up the conclusions of the Pujo Committee. I like to think it was the most socially acceptable yarn wall of its time, and maybe all time.
On March 31st, 1913, JP Morgan died in his sleep in Rome, at the age of 75. The doctor declared that he had died of a general nervous and physical breakdown. The Times headline April 1st read “J. PIERPONT MORGAN DEAD IN ROME; FINANCIER WORN OUT BY OVERWORK. WORLD PAYS TRIBUTE.” The Times added, helpfully, “STOCKS UNSHAKEN.”
Attention turned to the stress Morgan had suffered during the Pujo inquiry. Family, partners and doctors saw the Old Man’s rapid demise after the testimony as the direct result of Untermeyer’s vicious questioning. Pujo Committee members went on the record saying that they couldn’t imagine how the committee’s work had hurt Morgan, given his liveliness and calm in front of Congress. But all the unfortunate details of Morgan’s demise got published in gory detail: of his mental confusion and fog, his last words (“You bet I will pull through”), then his inability to eat or swallow, increasing weakness, and finally, his peaceful death in bed, surrounded by his family.
Can pointed questions be a murder weapon? Can a lawyer stress you into a state of catatonia and death?
The Morgan empire had a lot more to worry about than whether being put under oath caused the man’s death. The ground shifted under them. Jack Morgan, now thrust into the center of a storm of public discontent, saw public sentiment turning against them. He ordered the firm to divest from certain stock interests, saying, “The Untermeyer enquiry and the press generally have indicated a feeling on the part of the public that JP Morgan and Company ought not to have large stock holding interests in our financial institutions. We all feel it behooves us to pay more or less attention to public feeling of that kind.” The ground had shifted.
Untermyer did not rest on the completion of the Pujo Committee report. Not his style. 1913 would become a year of creation. Untermeyer would be on the front lines of reform. He was a Progressive during an era of new ideas and had plenty of people asking for his involvement in what was to come. With his help, the Federal Reserve Bank would be created by the end of 1913, ushering in a new financial order to replace the smoke-filled rooms of the 1907 Panic. Of course, less than twenty years later, the country would be plunged into the worst economic crisis in its history. There’s a lesson in there about well-intentioned systems at work.
For it’s part, JP Morgan Chase exists to this day, with a balance sheet of almost three trillion dollars, making it the largest bank in the United States.
“A DIVORCE FOR MR. BEADLESTON.” The New York Times. 23 Dec. 1885. Pp. 8.
“ENJOYED PUJO HEARING: Members of Committee Don't Believe It Caused Morgan's Illness.” The New York Times. 1 Apr. 1913. Pp. 2.
“FOR THE BENEFIT OF CONSUMERS.: LAWYER UNTERMEYER'S PLEA FOR THE PROJECTED WALL PAPER TRUST.” The New York Times. 11 May. 1892. Pp. 9.
“GARDINER WANTS HEARING: Appeals to Gov. Roosevelt.” The New York Times. 31 Mar. 1900. Pp 2.
Lindbergh, Charles August. Charles August Lindbergh (1859-1924), Banking and Currency (1913), yamaguchy.com/library/lindbergh/lindb_index.html.
“MONEY MONOPOLY AN IMPOSSIBILITY, MORGAN ASSERTS.” The New York Times. 20 Dec. 1912. Pp. 1.
“Morgan and Untermyer in Show Ring.” The New York Times. 14 Jan. 1907. Pp. 9.
Pak, Susie. Gentlemen Bankers the World of J.P. Morgan. Harvard University Press, 2014.
“President's Address, Backward and Forward.” Untermyer Gardens Conservancy, www.untermyergardens.org/letters-from-our-president/backward-and-forward.
“Samuel Untermyer.” Prabook.com, prabook.com/web/samuel.untermyer/1071597.
“THE HARNEY PEAK MINES: RESIDENT UNTERMYER DESCRIBES THEIR CONDITION.: AND REPLIES IN DETAIL.” Untermyer, Samuel. The New York Times. 26 Nov. 1890. Pp. 9.
“The Encounter between Jews and America in the Gilded Age and Progressive Era.” Hasia Diner. The Journal of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era, January 2012, Vol. 11, No. 1, pp. 3-25
“UNTERMYER DEAD IN HIS 82D YEAR; LONG HAD BEEN ILL.” Special to the New York Times. The New York Times. 17 Mar. 1940. Pp. 1.
“UNTERMYER ON BETHLEHEM: Denies He Made $2,000,000 and Talks of Manipulation.” The New York Times, 18 Apr. 1915, p. 8.
“UNTERMYER QUITS THE FIRM.: Wants to Give Younger Members a Chance.” The New York Times. 4 Jan. 1912. Pp. 7.
“UNTERMYER SEES DAWN OF NEW ERA.” The New York Times. 1 Sep. 1912. Pp. 6.