Martial arts star Chuck Norris, who fought his way to fame in such 1980s action movies as The Delta Force, Code of Silence, and a trilogy of Missing in Action films, has died. He was 86.

In a fight, Norris tended to lead with his right…foot.

He all but trademarked a roundhouse kick that villains never seemed to see coming. He’d plant a heel in someone’s gut, spin once to knock him off balance with a boot to the chest, spin again to catch the guy’s shoulder with his instep, maybe throw in a punch just to vary the rhythm, and finish him off with a high kick to the head.

It was art, and widely imitated, but it did not kick off his career at first. He was knocking around martial arts competitions and teaching celebrity clients in Hollywood, including Priscilla Presley, Bob Barker, and Donny and Marie Osmond, when his pal Bruce Lee gave him his break in films by inviting him to play one of many villains in 1972’s The Way of the Dragon.

The film fetishized Norris’ hairy chest opposite Lee’s smooth one, and he gave a little smirk when he flattened Lee with a roundhouse kick early on. But it was Lee’s film, and by scene’s end, Norris was toast.

That could’ve been it, if one of Norris’ celebrity students, Steve McQueen, hadn’t suggested he take acting lessons. Norris did, and scored the leading role of a put-upon trucker in Breaker! Breaker!, an action flick shot in just 11 days.

It made money, and in a string of indie hits that followed, Norris established himself as America’s first homegrown martial arts movie star. At which point, Hollywood studios came calling with bigger budgets, and titles like Forced Vengeance, Silent Rage, Lone Wolf McQuade, and Invasion U.S.A. In that one, Norris played a mercenary combatting a Soviet-led terrorist army that lands in Florida at Christmastime, taunting foes with lines like, “If you come back in here, I’m gonna hit you with so many rights, you’re gonna beg for a left.”

He karate chopped and kickboxed his way through more than a dozen action films in the ’80s before leaping to TV, where he played Sergeant Cordell Walker, a decorated Vietnam veteran with Cherokee ancestry who championed the “Code of the Old West” in about 200 episodes of Walker, Texas Ranger.

Though a mostly non-verbal tough guy was his go-to role on screen, offscreen he established philanthropies for children and veterans, became a nationally-syndicated health and fitness columnist, got active in Republican politics, and wrote about 10 books including not just martial arts manuals, but two memoirs, two novels, and a conservative activist handbook called Black Belt Patriotism: How to Reawaken America.

At his home in Texas, he continued to work out and train well into his 80s. And though mostly retired in recent years, he was amused to find himself the subject of internet memes, “Chuck Norris Facts” that celebrated his supposed toughness with hyperbole and exaggeration.

“Did you know that I got bit by a king cobra?” he asks in one video, adding with a chuckle, “and after five days of agonizing pain, the cobra died.”

Digital edited by Jennifer Vanasco; audio edited by Matteen Mokalla.

Phil Rosenthal likes to sit at the counter of Max & Helen’s, the diner he recently opened with acclaimed chef Nancy Silverton, and chat with people while they eat.

“I sometimes feel like the mayor of Larchmont,” Rosenthal says over the phone as he greets diners who notice him at the counter. “When people come in and realize I’m involved, they’re always surprised to see me. It’s a bit like being at Disneyland and running into Goofy.”

In Sunday Funday, L.A. people give us a play-by-play of their ideal Sunday around town. Find ideas and inspiration on where to go, what to eat and how to enjoy life on the weekends.

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Rosenthal is probably best known for creating the popular TV show “Everybody Loves Raymond” and hosting Netflix’s “Somebody Feed Phil,” which is moving to YouTube in 2027, but he is more than just a famous foodie. He’s now touring the country for his live show, “An Evening With Phil Rosenthal,” and he recently published his second children’s book, “Just Try It! Someplace New!,” which he wrote with his daughter Lily. (They’ll sign books at Barnes & Noble at the Grove on March 14.)

“The book series started when my daughter called and said, ‘Kids love your show. Why don’t you do a kids’ book?’ “ he says, before adding with a laugh: “I told her, ‘Yes, if you’ll do it with me.’ That’s a dad trick to get more time with your daughter.”

Rosenthal believes stories about kids feeling nervous or afraid to try new things connect with both children and adults. “When you write a kids’ book, you realize that it is not just a kids’ book,” he says. “It’s really a book for everyone.”

Although he travels a lot, Rosenthal likes to spend Sundays close to home. He enjoys walking his dog Murray to Larchmont Village and hosting movie night with friends at his place in Hancock Park.

Here’s what his perfect Sunday in L.A. looks like, with lots of good food along the way, of course.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

7:45 a.m.: Coffee with Murray and neighborhood friends

Every Sunday morning, I walk my dog Murray to Larchmont Village and stop at Go Get Em Tiger. It’s our daily ritual. Over time, we’ve built a great community there, and I always invite others to join us. We sit outside, talk and have become close friends. I usually post a photo of Murray on Instagram each day. He’s a rescue mutt, and I like to joke he’s part Pyrenees, part psychopath.

9 a.m.: Shop for produce at the Larchmont Village Farmers’ Market

After about an hour, I head across the street to the Larchmont Village Farmers’ Market, which is held on Wednesdays and Sundays. I usually pick up some fruit for the house. It’s a great community spot.

9:30 a.m.: Breakfast at Max and Helen’s

Next I walk down the street to Max and Helen’s, the diner my family opened. I’m about to order the L.E.O., which is Gingrass Smoked salmon lox, three eggs and onions. So if I sound like my mouth is full, you’ll know why.

One of my favorite things on the menu is the sourdough waffle Nancy [Silverton] created, topped with butter mixed with maple syrup. I also love the hot chocolate, and the tuna melt is a special, more romanticized version of the classic. If you eat there every day, it’s smart to pick something healthy, like I’m having today — high protein and no carbs.

11 am: Browse titles at a neighborhood bookstore

I love visiting Chevalier’s Books, the oldest independent bookstore in Los Angeles. I’ve been going there since I moved to Los Angeles from New York in 1989. It’s just two doors down from the diner and feels like our community bookstore.

Noon: Hit the gym

Afterwards, I walk home and fit in a workout. I have to exercise every day because I eat a lot. If I didn’t walk everywhere, I’d probably weigh 300 pounds. My gym is simple — just some weights and a bench — but it works for me. Since I travel often, I stick to a routine I can do anywhere.

1 p.m.: Enjoy a surprising meal at a Michelin-noted restaurant

If I weren’t hosting movie night, I’d love to stop by République. It’s an amazing place, maybe the best restaurant in L.A. Every menu is great. I usually eat just about anything there, and sometimes I ask them to surprise me. It’s an all-day restaurant and I’ve gone for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Their egg dishes are excellent, the burger is top-notch and the roasted chicken, which is cooked over an open fire in the kitchen, is superb. I often let the chef decide what to bring me, especially when I’m with a group. It’s fun to be surprised and try shareable dishes.

I also really enjoy Connie and Ted’s in West Hollywood, Michael Cimarusti’s casual spot. The seafood is just as good as it is at Providence, his fine dining place. Their fresh Maine lobster roll is excellent, and they have the best oysters in L.A. It’s pretty awesome. Check before you head over there, though, as I’ve heard it’s for lease.

3 p.m.: Go for a hike

I used to hike more before I started traveling so much, but I still enjoy it. After all, this is L.A. While other places deal with bad weather, we get to be outside. I love hiking in Runyon Canyon and Griffith Park. It’s great to make the most of the outdoors here.

6 p.m.: Movie night and Pizzeria Mozza at home

On Sundays, we host movie nights at home. We have a dedicated screening room, a wood-burning pizza oven in the kitchen and a chef from Pizzeria Mozza, who comes over to make pizza. The best part is that someone connected to the film often joins us. Sometimes we watch new movies, other times old favorites. Aaron Sorkin came for “The Social Network,” and when we screened “Tootsie,” Elaine May, Dustin Hoffman and Bill Murray joined us. We usually have about 25 to 30 people.

I really love my neighborhood and the people in it. One of the best things about traveling so much is that it makes you appreciate home even more.

AMSTERDAM – In his modest IKEA-furnished apartment, Arthur Brand paces to distract himself.

“I’m nervous,” he says, with the honesty of a man who has learned that bravado is useless in his line of work. He lights a cigarette, leans out the window, and scans the street below.

“The waiting is the hardest part.”

Brand, 56, has made a career out of waiting: for a phone call, a knock at the door, and, every once in a blue moon, a Picasso or a Van Gogh left discreetly on his doorstep.

“Those are the moments you realize it’s worth it,” he says.

Until, of course, everything resets, and the waiting game begins again.

In another life, Brand says, he’ll take his mother’s advice and “find a normal job.” But in this one, he’s helped recover stolen art for two decades — often the cases police can’t solve alone.

Some call him the “Indiana Jones of the art world.” Brand insists he’s closer to a certain Pink Panther character.

“Do you know Peter Sellers, Inspector Clouseau? Well, I’m like that,” he says. “I always follow the wrong lead.”

Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s just modesty. Or maybe it’s Brand’s ability to follow every wrong lead — and keep going — that keeps him in the game.

He says he has recovered more than 150 stolen paintings and artifacts. His cases regularly make international headlines.

There’s the stolen Van Gogh that showed up on his doorstep in 2023, stuffed into a blood-soaked pillow in a blue IKEA bag. The Salvador Dali painting he recovered in 2016. The Picasso he tracked down for a Saudi sheikh in 2019.

Brand’s path into this work wasn’t planned.

“You know, you cannot go to university and say, I want to become an art detective,” Brand says. “This is a job created more or less out of lack of other opportunities.”

He traces his entry point to Michel van Rijn, a notorious Dutch figure in the art underworld who introduced Brand says to a shadowy ecosystem of smugglers, thieves and forgers — and law enforcement.

After making a cold call to van Rijn’s office, Brand says he became his apprentice in London — which regularly involved sitting quietly in a corner while older men swapped stories. “Everybody thought — who is this idiot?” he says.

Van Rijn, Brand later discovered, was straddling two sides. In 2009, he walked away after learning his boss was working with police while still keeping “one leg” in the criminal world.

The experience left him with a simple rule for survival: In a world where people expect betrayal, being honest — and keeping your word — is its own form of power. It’s a lesson that underpins just about everything Brand does now.

A bridge between informants and the police 

Brand says his work lives between two worlds that don’t trust each other: police and the people who might know where the stolen art is hiding.

“The police don’t trust the informants. The informants don’t trust the police. So I want to form a bridge between them to see what can be done. And in most cases, it’s possible.”

The bridge only holds if Brand is seen as independent. “I’m not hired by an insurance company,” he says. “The police, of course, don’t pay me. So I do this work [at] my own costs.”

He supports himself by consulting for art galleries and helping Jewish families trace art looted during World War II. But the majority of his energy goes to the work he does on his own dime — acting as a go-between when someone wants to quietly unload a masterpiece they can’t keep.

Stolen masterpieces, he says, are hard to enjoy and even harder to sell. “Who buys stolen art? You cannot show it to your friends. You cannot leave it to your children.”

Dutch police say Brand’s motive matters.

Richard Bronswijk, who heads the Dutch police art crime unit, says he’s seen private detectives create problems when money is the driver. “I’ve worked before with private detectives who are doing this for the money,” Bronswijk says. “And then it’s always dangerous.”

Brand, he points out, has always been driven by something else: the thrill of the chase.

“Everybody’s in it for the money, and I’m not,” Brand says. “They cannot buy me.”

The art thief and the art detective: An unlikely pair

Still, sometimes Brand’s trust isn’t enough on its own. When an informant is deciding whether to return stolen art, Brand says fear can take over … of the police, of retaliation, of being tricked.

That’s when he calls in his ace — Octave Durham.

In 2002, Durham, already a seasoned bank robber, stole two Van Gogh paintings from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam.

“You have born soccer players, born teachers, born policemen,” Durham says. “I’m a born burglar,” adding he doesn’t steal anymore but “still can.”

Today, he works with Brand to recover stolen art.

Brand has legitimacy. “But I have contacts on the streets,” Durham says.

“What takes [Brand] sometimes five, six years to figure something out, I could go up to somebody right away.”

Durham says he trusts Brand because Brand’s focus is consistent. “He shows how he works, and it’s all about recovering the art,” Durham says — “and not to send somebody to jail … or go for the reward.”

The Van Gogh in the IKEA bag

In 2020, another Van Gogh — The Spring Garden — was stolen from the Singer Laren Museum. Police caught the thief a year later, but the painting was still missing.

Then Brand says he got a tip from an informant.

A gang, he said, was holding the Van Gogh as leverage until the attention made it too risky to keep.

“Everybody wanted to get rid of it,” Brand says.

Brand says the informant told him he could return it — but only if could be guaranteed confidentiality. And he needed proof he could trust Brand.

So Brand turned to Durham. Durham sent the informant a message on Brand’s behalf. “I don’t know who you are,” Durham texted. “The only thing I can say is that I guarantee you won’t get into trouble if you talk to [Brand].”

It worked.

One afternoon, Brand says he opened his door and found a blue IKEA bag on his doorstep. Inside, he says, was a pillow soaked in blood. Wrapped within it was the missing Van Gogh.

“It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life,” Brand says.

He says moments like the Van Gogh discovery explain why he keeps doing his work — and why, despite the danger, he keeps answering the phone.

He compares it to living inside a thriller. That’s when he has a confession to make.

“It all started with Dan Brown, this whole idiot story,” he says.

Earlier this year, it all came full circle when he met the author at a book signing in Amsterdam.

Brand shows off a framed note Brown gave him at the signing. “To Arthur, the real world Robert Langdon, with gratitude for all you do.”