Says Museum of Television and Radio curator Ron Simon, "The show was able to create a professional and personal world for Tony Soprano which reflected what it was like to be a middle manager in 20th-century America."

TV historian Tim Brooks says The Sopranos' biggest influence was on Hollywood, where it heightened the "dismemberment quotient" of other prime-time series, led by CSI, which premiered 18 months later. Simon concurs that the show, despite airing on a pay-cable channel with no content restrictions, "loosened the reins" for others.

Basic cable steps in

FX was the biggest beneficiary. The network's stable of original programming is a direct descendant of The Sopranos' success, and its former executives — now the top programmers at NBC and Fox — often said FX's goal was to be seen as the HBO of basic cable. The Shield, with its murderous cop; Rescue Me, centered on an alcoholic, wife-abusing fireman; and Nip/Tuck, with its lying, cheating plastic surgeons, all owed a debt to Tony's crew in their raw explicitness.

Even the more rigidly censored broadcast networks spawned flawed heroes such as Fox's Dr. House and virtually every character on Lost — each of whom, it has been revealed, committed murder or some other sin before being stranded on the island.

The Mob hit's effect was keenly felt at HBO itself. Arriving in January 1999, seven months after Sex and the City, "The Sopranos made us famous," HBO chairman Chris Albrecht says. "Before, we were something people had but didn't pay a lot of attention to. But this showed us as players in this medium in a way we hadn't been perceived before. It was a real turning point and a tremendous calling card for other people to come and want to do business with us."

It was also a nice piece of business. Despite a huge price tag — the show now costs about $10 million an hour, nearly four times the price of a typical network drama — the series has become a cash cow. HBO has so far sold 3 million DVD sets and peddled cleaned-up reruns to cable's A&E network for a record-setting $2.5 million an episode in a deal worth more than $200 million.

But the well will soon dry up, and HBO has yet to even approach The Sopranos' success with any new show that has come since.

"It's way more difficult, but not impossible" to achieve, Albrecht says. "When Sopranos went on the air, there were probably six networks making series; there's dozens now" as basic-cable networks, and creatively revived rival Showtime, have siphoned viewers.

This summer, HBO plans a record four Sunday series, including the returning Big Love, about a polygamous family, and the new John From Cincinnati, a drama about a mystical surfer. And the network may expand to a second night.

To some extent, The Sopranos' success made the show its own victim, as a whirlwind of hype and obsession split viewers into camps: those lured by mobsters and mayhem, and others who appreciated the drama of an upper-middle-class, suburban New Jersey family coping with many of the same issues that they were: aging parents, wayward children, midlife crises.

Awaiting the next whacking

Ratings fell as gaps between seasons grew longer. And the bloodlust camp grew restless with the domestic drama, devoting obsessive attention to a parlor game of predicting which character would get "whacked" next.

After the second season closed with the seaborne execution of FBI informant Big Pussy, "People started treating it like it was Survivor: 'Who's going to die?', as if every season someone had to go," says Michael Imperioli , who plays Soprano lieutenant Christopher Moltisanti. "So everything got compared to that, and you'd hear there's not enough blood, there's not enough killing, and that was never the object of the show."

Still, The Sopranos continued to earn praise. It won 18 Emmys, including best drama in 2004. Chase planned to end the show after Season 4 but extended it three times because there were stories left to tell. (Huge paydays for top producers and actors didn't hurt.)

Though he mapped out how the series would end a few years ago, he kept going because "I never finished out the (Uncle) Junior story. There were things I wanted to do with Janice … Tony and A.J. … Meadow. We saw them as young children, and I wanted to finish out their story as young adults, to see how it all turned out for them."

Though shooting ends this month, the bullets will fly until June 10, when The Sopranos breathes its last. Except for star James Gandolfini , cast members are as sorry as fans to see it go.

"I'm profoundly sad, surprisingly so," three-time Emmy winner Edie Falco  says. "You live this character for 10 years. As pretend as it may be, it starts to get under your skin."

But some die-hards will never let the show's memory be whacked. "I will forever be a fan," Simmons says. "I love this show and everything about it, and my living room, which is covered in framed Sopranos posters and memorabilia, will make sure that the show will never end for me."

Chase says he's "honored that people feel that way." And aside from a glint of doubt when he wrote the final episode, he doesn't regret the latest — and final — decision to end the series.

"The show business saying is, 'keep 'em wanting more.' I'm just glad they do."