PITTSBURGH — Left for demolition like the heaps and hunks of scrap metal all around, this stranded file cabinet, plucked from an office and Forbes Field and then pitched, contained a treasure of paperwork. There were probably letters and contracts and files on Hall of Famers, from Willie Stargell to Ralph Kiner – the fine print on Pittsburgh’s baseball history.

Thank goodness somebody saved some files labeled: CLEMENTE, ROBERTO.

While much of that abandoned file cabinet was destroyed so that its metal could be made into paper clips and widgets of some type, at least one stack of papers escaped to help wallpaper a memorial. A couple dozen blocks away from downtown Pittsburgh, not too far a cab ride from Clemente Bridge, is the Roberto Clemente Museum. It is built into Engine House No. 25, an old firehouse that’s other claim to fame sounds like a historical-society cliche: Lou Gehrig once slept there, in 1927.

The Clemente Museum shares its space with a photo study, the business side of the firehouse and the work that allows Duane Rieder to fund and develop what is a labor of love. Rieder came upon the contents of that aforementioned file at an auction, and he was astonished with what he found. There were letters sent from Clemente to the Pirates as he served in the military. There were contracts. There was a bundle of papers that begged to be framed and displayed.

He began augmenting that collection with other items, through auctions and requests. Rieder spent nearly $150,000 in framing alone to present all of the items he was able to get. And through it all he not only has collected memorabilia, he’s also built a fitting memorial for the man, Roberto Clemente. He’s also done it with the help and support of the Clemente family, and now he counts himself as the family’s “official archivist.”

“I’m from 100 miles north of here,” he said. “Pirate nut. Clemente lover. When he died it was pretty tragic. This is what should be done for him.”

During my last trip to Pittsburgh, Rieder took Cardinals pitcher Ron Villone – last seen wrestling with a few teammates during Sunday’s eighth-inning donnybrook at PNC Park — and me on a private tour of the museum. It is not open to the public, per se. Since it opened for a Clemente family party in 2006, Rieder has offered appointment viewing of his collection. He charges a flat fee and he does it so that he can keep up with the cost of the museum while also limiting the traffic through his place of business.

The collection is housed on two floors of Engine House No. 25.

Upon entering the firehouse, there is an impressive display of contracts and letters and the famous Clemente “Angel” photo seen above. In one letter Clemente sent to the Pirates from Parris Island, S.C., while in the Marine reserves, he wrote:

Can you send my baseball stuff down here? The guys asked me to be on the team. — Roberto.

Near that letter is a photo of Clemente and his fellow the reserves. It is dated 1958. Not too far from it, is a letter from an elected official to the Pittsburgh general manager about Clemente’s military service. In a telling P.S., the writer references Bill Mazeroski and spells out a clear goal for his hometown here.

P.S. I hope my Billy is doing OK. Tell him that I have set up a quota of 30 HRs from him this year. Perhaps before that, he will break up his habit of falling away from those low, outside hooks.

The collection goes up to the second floor from there, and up in awe factor, too.

Rieder’s collection ranges from the sentimental — the last jersey Clemente wore in his life and the last bat he held, both with a team in Puerto Rico — to the trivial. He has the contract Clemente refused to sign for an appearance in “The Odd Couple”, because, yes, Clemente refused to hit into a triple play. Across from that contract is a frame-by-frame display of photos taken at Busch Stadium one day that clearly show Clemente making a barehand catch in the outfield.

There are four pairs of Clement’s game-worn cleats, and one pair is resting on the home plate from the 1971 World Series. In the same case as his rental car membership card and is his 1961 Silver Slugger award. He hit .351 that year. The bat is dented a bit, Rieder said, because Clemente’s kids had whacked a few baseballs with it. Clemente’s contract with Rawlings is up on the wall, explaining how he got 5 cents for every glove that sold at less than $9, 10 cents for every glove more than $9 and a dime for every dozen baseballs sold. Using photos and other items from the time, Reider contends that the Hall of Fame does not have the bat from Clemente’s 3,000th hit, and he’s working to certify the bat that was used.

Tucked away in the same room as a 45 for the “Ballad of Roberto Clemente”, is a set of game notes from April 1, 1971 that announcecs Clemente as the starting pitcher for that night’s game.

April fools.

Each major leaguer who visits the museum — and there is a standing invitation posted in the visitors’ clubhouse at PNC Park — signs a baseball that has a place near the Silver Slugger bat. While there, Rieder asks Villone to sign a ball. He’ll set it place close to the other Cardinal to visit, Albert Pujols. He visited and signed a ball in April 2007, one of the first major leaguers to visit Engine House No. 25, both Pujols and Rieder said.

“He was just a great baseball player,” Pujols said recently. He is the Cardinals’ winner of the Roberto Clemente Award, and he is deserving of the major-league award that will be given out later this fall. ”Some (people say) we’re almost similar … we look like each other, and the things he did for his community. He was a Hall of Fame great player on the field and even better (person) of it. I wish I could have met him.”

Having visited the museum, you feel as close to doing that as possible.

There have been several articles written locally about the museum. The Post-Gazette visited for an article and a slide show. The Pittsburgh City Paper also gives a tour of some of the other items in the collection. Rieder said he hosts groups often, groups who are in town for a Pirates series or a convention and swing by the museum to meet Clemente. As mentioned he does it by appointment only, and the best way to set one up is to call, 412-621-1268.

Pujols left with a souvenir from his visit. He got a hat that is black with a simple patch on the front that reads, “21″. Rieder designed the hat from the patch the Pirates wore after Clemente’s death. For some, that logo has come to symbolize a quiet push to have Clemente’s number retired throughout baseball, ala Jackie Robinson’s 42. Pujols grabbed the hat for a teammate, Yadier Molina.

I bought one for myself.

It’s a nice way to remember that file cabinet rooted with that other scrap so many years ago and the museum that blossomed because of it.

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