It's been nearly two years since a frustrated Saxby Chambliss, pointing to the "ugly" climate in Washington, announced he would rather be home sipping whisky on a porch with friends rather than serve another six years in the U.S. Senate.

Except for a final running out of the clock, Chambliss’ 20-year congressional career came to an end late Wednesday, when his final piece of legislation died at the hands of Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nev., who himself will be demoted in the next Congress.

The Cybersecurity Information Sharing Act was intended to thwart hackers by encouraging victimized businesses – think Home Depot – to share information about cyber attacks with the federal government. Too much information, critics alleged.

The bill was sponsored by Chambliss, the ranking Republican on the Senate Intelligence Committee, and chairman Diane Feinstein, D-Cal. It had been recommended by the committee with a 12-3 vote.

“You don’t see that in D.C. right now. That’s how bipartisan it was. Once it got in the hands of Senator Reid’s office, it sort of went in a different direction,” Chambliss said. “They gave us 15 objections. We satisfied 13 of them. It’s just more of the same.”

We were in his office in the Cobb Galleria complex. Chambliss had lined up a series of exit interviews Friday with local journalists. These were multiple opportunities to sum up his public service – eight in the U.S. House, 12 in the U.S. Senate – in 20-minute bursts. And to let everyone know what he plans to do next.

He and his wife Julianne will keep their old home in Moultrie, but are hunting for a small pied-a-terre in Atlanta. Chambliss plans to attach himself to a downtown law firm, but can’t yet say which one. He’ll do some lecturing at the University of Georgia and elsewhere. Another priority will be the maintenance of his international intelligence contacts.

Throughout his time in Washington, Chambliss has been one of the poorer members of Congress. “I’m looking forward to changing that, I hope,” said Chambliss, 71. But he said he will not become a lobbyist.

Some of Chambliss’ staffers will stay and participate in the launching of U.S. Sen.-elect David Perdue in Washington. The rest have been helped to other jobs – a quiet, unpublicized duty of a departing member of Congress.

By and large, politicians are optimistic beasts. Despite the barren wasteland that is modern Washington, Chambliss had his legacy list ready.

“I’ve been either a chairman or a ranking member of a major committee for 10 of my 12 years. There’s nobody in the U.S. Senate who can say that,” Chambliss said.

He has helped write four farm bills, and was a primary author of three. He had a hand in 20 defense authorization bills, and helped obtain funding for the dredging of the Port of Savannah. Chambliss’ favorite: A bill to give National Guard and other reservists quicker access to their retirement earnings.

Chambliss is not so quick to mention the activity that nearly made him persona non grata among the Republican base – a multi-year, bipartisan effort with U.S. Sen. Mark Warner, D-Va., to reach a grand deal to reduce the federal government’s $17 trillion debt. During the race to replace him, Democrat Michelle Nunn would often praise his efforts. Republican candidates did not. Or could not.

Even so, Chambliss was the man who introduced Perdue, his successor, on election night last month. The incumbent said he understood the reality of the situation, and holds no grudges.

“I’ve been punished by a few who have spoken loudly,” Chambliss said. “But if you’re not making a few folks angry, you’re not doing your job.”

The Chambliss-Warner deficit reduction effort was first known as the Gang of Six. Then it grew to eight members. Half of the gang – four of them – will leave the U.S. Senate in January. Some jumped. Others were pushed.

But Chambliss believes his efforts established a baseline. “Now you can’t talk to anybody in Washington without tax reform being mentioned. So I think we laid that foundation and put the ideas out there that are ultimately going to be dealt with,” he said. “I wish they wouldn’t deal with them piecemeal, but they probably will.”

On Wednesday, Chambliss will make his farewell address on the Senate floor. He intends to call for the next Republican-controlled Senate to abandon the so-called “nuclear option” and return to the days when 60 votes were required to break a filibuster.

“If we change the rule back so it takes 60 votes on judges and executive [nominations], that puts the Senate back in the position of folks on both sides of the aisle having to work together. That’s what’s sorely needed,” Chambliss said.

But that will strike many as inside baseball rather than the stuff of legacy. If you want to know what Chambliss will be remembered for in 60 or 70 years, you have to go back to his work on the Senate Intelligence Committee.

“I’ve been inside the room when decisions have been made – in Congress on both sides, and the White House. I’ve enjoyed that part of it,” the senator said. He was a member of the first tier of human beings to know that Osama bin Laden was no more.

When Edward Snowden blabbed about the extent to which the National Security Agency was sweeping the world’s phone calls and emails, both foreign and domestic, it was Chambliss who became a Republican champion for maintaining U.S. ability to eavesdrop and analyze – in a responsible fashion.

To that point, if you want to know where to find a building with Chambliss’ name on it in the next century, look to Fort Gordon and Augusta, where the NSA has a rapidly expanding facility and the U.S. military has established a unified operation for all things cyberspace-related.

“I’ve never really promoted it that much, because it’s part of the secret life that I live,” Chambliss said. “But we’ve got about 3,000 people working there, between NSA and Cyber Command. We’re the hub of cyber in the world right now.”

A thousand more will be added soon, he said. “That realm of security is going to get more and more significant.”

That’s a legacy. Unseeable, important and, to some, discomfiting. But a legacy nonetheless.