Stephen Secan, principal oboist for the Columbus Symphony Orchestra, makes by making ? a pursuit requires the abilities of a woodworker, a weather forecaster and an international agribusinessman.

"It is certainly one of the most labor-intensive instruments and one of the most fascinating," Secan said. "I wish I understood more about it."

Since the oboe rose to prominence during the baroque era, a player has needed a good reed ? called a "double reed" because part of it is folded over ? to give the instrument its distinctive tone and to keep it in tune.

The latter is crucial: Before a concert, the other members of an orchestra tune their instruments to a note played on an oboe.

Secan, like most other professional oboists, is both an artist and an artisan, spending about as much time making reeds as practicing music. The second-floor workshop in his North Side home is cluttered with not only precision tools and bags of cane but also four oboes, two English horns and an oboe d?amore ? an alto member of the oboe family. His process begins with a search for material. Constantly on the prowl for good river cane, Secan buys most of his from southern France, Spain and the island of Majorca. ??We all have sources," he said. "One of my sources is near Avignon (France), and he has excellent cane. I just got a shipment from him ? a small garbage bag of cane. It cost me $300, and that?s a very, very good deal. Normally it costs anywhere from $100 to $150 a pound from brokers in this country.

"The danger is you buy in quantity and it might not be any good. Soil conditions and weather affect the cane. I have heard people say, if the wine is good in a region, look for good cane."

Ten years ago, a friend supplied him with cane too dense to cut and fashion into reeds.

Secan thought he?d never use it, but he put it aside and let it age.

"Two years later, it was the best reed ever. My hands were shaking, it was so good."

The exacting, intricate task of fashioning a reed starts with the planing of a piece of cane ? which is then scraped, bent and tied (with silk thread coated in beeswax); and fastened to a metal tube encased in cork to fit into the top of an oboe.

In the simplest terms, Secan said, the reed functions like "the corner of a soda straw" that a child clips in a lunchroom.

"Essentially, what oboe players have to do is make half of their instrument ? the important half," said Randy Hester, the symphony?s principal flutist and a longtime friend of Secan?s.

"The reed makes the sound, after all. Oboists can look rather harried at times when the reeds aren?t working.

"The payoff is oboists can create exquisite, slow, beautiful melodies. We?re all a little jealous of the attention oboists get."

Secan learned the trade from master craftsmen, including Robert Sprenkle, his teacher at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, N.Y.; and John Mack, a retired principal oboist for the Cleveland Orchestra.

Like them, he pays strict attention to the weather.

The long, wooden black shaft of an oboe is affected by humidity, while the slim reed is undone by variations in altitude and barometric pressure, too.

"I have some reeds made in spring conditions and some made in winter conditions," Secan said. "There?s a barometer in my studio to help me determine what the current conditions are.

"When I make a reed and I go to Arizona, I have to alter the reed. If there?s a gargantuan change ? if I go up to Aspen (Colo.), say, where it?s much higher-altitude ? the changes I make are pretty drastic."

Sometimes the changes involve soaking the reed in a glass of water; and sometimes, more planing, shaving or both.

"You are making it to play at that moment under those specific conditions," Secan said.

Before a concert in Columbus, he takes four or five almost-finished reeds with him to complete onstage.

"That hour before a concert is quite important to an oboe player," he said. "Sometimes a reed will split or crack, and I need to be prepared for that. . . . Sometimes they don?t go the distance. You realize that you?re not going to get through the Mahler symphony, that you use a different reed for a Mahler versus a Mozart or Bach, a big orchestra versus chamber orchestra versus solo recital.

"I can use a reed in the Southern (Theatre) that would whisper because of the wonderful acoustics there. But that reed I would never use in the Ohio, because it?s a much bigger house."

"Frankly," Hester said, "I couldn?t deal with all the ups and downs oboe players go through. We cut them a lot of slack.

"Fate seems to play a big part in an oboe player?s life. When Steve acquires good cane, he looks like a Cheshire cat; but when the barometric pressure changes on the day of a concert, he becomes like Ulysses cursing the gods."

tferan@dispatch.com?