SACRAMENTO - When the gavel slams down for the final time this fall in the state Capitol, California will say farewell to nearly 300 years of institutional memory as at least two dozen lawmakers pack up their offices and head home.

Almost one-third of that knowledge is contained in the brains of three grizzled veteran senators: John Burton, John Vasconcellos and Byron Sher -- the last of the liberal lions.

After dedicating their lives to public service, the trio of wrinkle-suited Bay Area lawmakers -- responsible for some of California's most innovative and esoteric laws -- will be forced into retirement by term limits.

The political cap will not only drain the Capitol of its final cadre of veteran leaders, it also ensures that those who follow will never rack up as many decades of experience and knowledge.

``It represents the final, complete phase of term limits in the state of California,'' said Bruce Cain, director of the Institute of Governmental Studies at the University of California-Berkeley. ``We're entering a brave new world.''

Since California voters imposed limits in 1990, the Capitol has been slowly drained of its veterans. Unable to serve more than six years in the Assembly and eight in the Senate, the final crop of lawmakers elected in 1990 will exit this December.

Along with the Bay Area trio, the Senate will lose six other members, including Republicans Jim Brulte of Rancho Cucamonga, Ross Johnson of Irvine and Bruce McPherson of Santa Cruz.

The remaining lawmakers will have an average five years' experience in Sacramento, a dearth of knowledge highlighted by the election this year of lawmakers who have been on the job fewer than 18 months as Assembly speaker and Republican leader.

To California historian Kevin Starr, the loss of old hands like Burton, Vasconcellos and Sher marks the end of an era in which politicians were formed by grand ideals and broad visions.

California dream

``Their greatest legacy was to keep the idea alive that life in California for ordinary people could be better. They believe in the California dream,'' said Starr. ``California has a problem. The younger legislators are not extending the California dream; at best they are trying to preserve it.''

Over the past four decades, the three legislators have been at the center of some of California's more colorful and compelling political debates, from whether to name the banana slug the state's official mollusk to clearing the way for cancer patients to use marijuana to ease their pain.

Yet, Burton, Vasconcellos and Sher -- respectively, the foul-mouthed Senate leader, rumpled champion of the self-esteem movement and understated former Stanford law professor -- have charted out very different paths.

Burton is a longtime partisan brawler best known for his short temper and a constant stream of curses that makes comedian Chris Rock seem like a choirboy by comparison.

A 71-year-old political warhorse, Burton rose from a San Francisco backbencher throwing barbs at an untested and underestimated B-movie actor, Gov. Ronald Reagan, to become a four-term member of Congress.

After his career was nearly derailed by cocaine addiction, Burton returned to California and re-emerged as one of the state's most effective Senate leaders who now cuts deals with California's second movie star-turned-governor: Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The gravel-voiced Vasconcellos will go down in history as the father of the state's self-esteem movement -- which touts personal pride and confidence as the key to happiness and success -- that propelled him from being a temperamental budget wonk to an object of national ridicule.

The curmudgeonly 71-year-old Santa Clara County senator, who flirted with the idea of running for governor in 1998, rose to become a powerful budget negotiator, early advocate for medicinal marijuana laws taking hold across the country and stalwart opponent of tough-on-crime laws.

In personality, Sher is the anti-Burton. Bookish, quiet and contemplative, the Palo Alto lawmaker has become perhaps the Capitol's most effective environmental advocate. In his quarter-century of service, the 76-year-old former law school professor has championed California's clean air act, major elements of its recycling program and the state's pioneering e-waste law.

Influential band

In their heyday, the trio were part of the ``grizzlies,'' a small-but-influential band of liberal lawmakers who used their clout to shape state policy on everything from crime to welfare.

Starr described the departing lawmakers as ``the last samurai,'' the last in a line of politicians molded by the state's 1960s era of public service, when Democratic Gov. Pat Brown led the drive to build world-class universities, water systems and highways millions of Californians rely upon.

But the lawmakers frequently clashed with their conservative colleagues, who often accused the liberal trio of thwarting Republican attempts to beef up public safety in California.

``They are the triumvirate of the killing fields for good anti-crime legislation,'' said Brulte, the Senate Republican leader.

The trio still sit on the Senate Public Safety Committee, which has long held a reputation as being a graveyard for anti-crime bills. They are expected to find themselves on the hot seat again soon when the committee considers rewriting a bill that would dramatically expand the state's sexual-predator registration laws.

In their early years, Brulte said, Burton and Vasconcellos were ``the foul poles in left field of the state Legislature.'' But, over time, the lawmakers came to realize that compromise was the key to success -- especially since Republicans held the governor's office for most of their careers.

``At the end of the day, they understand that we have to govern,'' said Brulte. ``These are three men who, while philosophically not in agreement with Gov. Wilson on many issues, were able to work with him to reach bipartisan agreements.''

No matter what they brought to the table over the years, there are some who are happy to see the changing of the guard.

``It doesn't matter how hard-working or well-intentioned you are, at some point your relationships with lobbyists and special interests become a lot stronger than your relationship with your constituents,'' said Dan Schnur, who was communications director for Wilson.

The experience lost will be outweighed by the value of adding an ever-changing and increasingly diverse crop of state leaders who bring new energy and ideas to the Capitol, said Schnur.

Exhibit A, he said, is Vasconcellos, who again garnered scorn earlier this month by unveiling legislation that would give Californians as young as 14 the right to vote.

``Here's a man who fought very hard and very passionately for things that were important to him, and sometimes he just checked out for the last decade,'' said Schnur. ``His constituents would have been better served with someone with more energy and a better understanding of the community he was elected to represent.''

Vasconcellos sees himself as a visionary, a legislator willing to risk derision in hopes of sparking a broader discussion about the state of democracy in America.

Once known as an insufferable, longhaired, leather-jacket-wearing lawmaker who refused to compromise, Vasconcellos has mellowed with age.

Shoots from hip

Although he sometimes still shoots from the hip -- as when he called Schwarzenegger a ``boob'' after the actor won last year's recall -- he credits ``good friends, good staff and good therapists'' (not to mention his oft-visited vacation home in Maui), with getting him through the tough times.

``It's easy to get here and forget who you are and why you're here,'' he said. ``I've always wanted to be who I am first and here second rather than the other way around.''

Along with Vasconcellos, Sher and Burton are preparing to wind up their final year much as they began. Sher hopes to preserve his record as one of the Legislature's chief environmental advocates, while Burton -- as Senate leader -- will be fighting to protect California's safety net during grim fiscal times.

In classic Burton fashion, the often intemperate senator has little time for reflection and brushes off questions about his legacy.

``I don't know what people are going to say,'' he said. ``Despite the bullshit, I was a pretty good guy?''