Duck Soo Kim

Kind of happy and sad feeling together. I am sure everybody have this kind of feeling sometimes in their life. Everything has a ending point. I am patting myself job well done... I am so glad I have you guys."

Later Years

Soo's family often joked that he had nine lives. Despite a series of serious health scares throughout the years, his response was always a dismissive wave of the hand and the statement, “I feel fine.” He was tough and resilient and rarely complained, always more prone to think of others than himself. Even in his final hours, as he unknowingly succumbed to an infection that began in his gall bladder and spread to his liver and lungs, he didn’t complain of pain or discomfort. When asked how he was feeling, he replied, “Did Zane make it home from school? That’s all I’m worried about.”

Many of us will remember Soo for his big, warm smile, his love of gambling, his humorous observations, his thriftiness, his hatred of tattoos, and his commitment to routines. He walked the same, two-mile route in his neighborhood every morning for over 30 years and frequented the same restaurants so often that the employees could punch in his order as soon as he walked through the door. He loved watching NFL games and rooting for Korea and Denmark in the World Cup. He loved food, especially spicy dishes, and his greatest compliment to a person was that they were “a good eater.” Although Jason and Janna never received this particular compliment, their spouses, Jasmine and Mads, did.

His grandchildren called Soo “Halbi,” Korean-American slang for 할아버지 or grandfather. When Soo retired in 2010, he dedicated the remainder of his life to being a doting grandfather, caregiver, and chauffer to his four, equally adoring-of-him grandchildren: Levi, Zane, Kaja, and Kalani. In recent years, he spent many hours watching his grandchildren and reveling at how different, fortunate, and happy their childhoods were compared to his own. It brought him joy and satisfaction to know that his ambitious journey from Korea to the United States, his decades of hard work providing for his family, and his successful and loving marriage of 53 years to Cheryl made this reality possible. 

Early Years

Duck Soo Kim was born in North Korea in 1943, where his young parents struggled to form a business and longed to move to Seoul. As the conflict on the Korean peninsula worsened, Soo’s father fled South to pursue a business opportunity and was unable to return. Soo's mother, a woman of remarkable resourcefulness and resolve, decided to track him down to reunite the family. Her mother wisely told her to take their two young sons with her since there was a real risk she would not return. Indeed, once she made that hazardous trek, she never saw her home, her mother or father, or most of her sisters again. Walking with 5-year-old Soo at her side and with an infant on her back, they hiked across 10 mountain passes and crossed what would become the DMZ into South Korea under the active fire of soldiers. 

As a teen and young man, Soo had always dreamed of coming to America, where everybody believed that "the streets were paved with gold." He worked hard to get into the top university in Korea, where he earned good grades. After college, he got a job with an import/export company in Seoul and took English classes for three years to prepare for a very difficult test that was required for entry into American schools. Unfortunately, he learned only how to read and write English, not to speak or understand it, so when he was accepted to Black Hills State College in South Dakota, his conversational English was very limited and he nearly flunked out.

Soo arrived in Los Angeles in the summer of 1968 with a few hundred dollars sewn into the lining of his clothing. He moved into an apartment with a Korean immigrant he met on the airplane and got a job sweeping floors at a Tootsie Roll factory. Shortly after, Cheryl and Soo crossed paths at a Chinese restaurant/piano bar in LA, and a whirlwind romance ensued. He didn’t speak much English at the time, and Janna once inquired, “But how were you able to communicate?” Cheryl famously replied, "We spoke in the Language of Love” while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. He left for college a few days later, and they exchanged letters on a weekly basis. Soo would madly and repeatedly profess his love for her. Cheryl would write back, "Calm down. We've only known each other for three days." Language of Love, indeed.

The unlikely couple became engaged in the summer of 1969. When Cheryl's parents heard the news, they sat the young couple down and warned them to "think of their children," whom they feared would never be accepted into American society because of their mixed race. The US Supreme Court had struck down anti-miscegenation laws only three years earlier! Likewise, in Korea, Soo's mother had difficulty adjusting to the news. She would later retell the moment she heard that Soo had "met a white woman" and planned to stay in the US. She said she felt as if someone had knocked her in the back of the head with a club. She would make a chopping motion to her neck, roll her eyes backwards, and pretend to stumble around the room to illustrate her point. Nevertheless, Cheryl and Soo were undeterred by their parents' reactions, and they got married at Hillcrest Congregational Church in La Habra Heights on December 26, 1970. Cheryl's brother, Steve, was the best man and her childhood friend, Rana, was the maid of honor.

They returned to South Dakota as newlyweds on New Year's Day so that Soo could finish his college degree in business. During the 8 months they lived in Spearfish, he worked as a parking enforcement officer, and Cheryl stapled and collated papers for the college. Soo's English improved, and he did well, but the class he dreaded the most was Speech. Cheryl suggested some topics he would be comfortable with, like how to make kimchi, and forced him to practice with her as an audience. (She would later come to realize that Korean men don’t know how to make kimchi.) Nevertheless, Soo’s speech was well-received, and he ended up getting a B in that class and graduating from Black Hills by the end of the summer.

Soo spent his entire 40-year career working as a food buyer for S.E. Rykoff (now US Foods), first as an assistant buyer and then working his way up to the position of senior buyer. With a memory like a steel trap, he had hundreds of product numbers memorized, and whenever Soo went to a restaurant, he would inevitably check the sugar and ketchup packets to verify the supplier. While other buyers were in charge of snacks and candy, Soo was in charge of the most important accounts, like Heinz. Sadly, his kids were extremely picky eaters, so the free products and tasty samples he brought home were somewhat lost on them.

Soo's most steadfast characteristic was his dedication to family. In the 1970s he was able to sponsor and bring his parents and siblings to the United States. He helped each of his siblings get a job at his company, Rykoff. The responsibility he felt as the first son and oldest brother weighed on him heavily. Owing to both his culture and his personality, Soo always tried his best to fulfill his family duty. At age 49, he had a heart attack while lifting weights at the gym and was revived with defibrillator paddles. This watershed moment made him realize that working and stress were taking a toll on his health and happiness, and he mellowed out and eventually grew into the good-natured, friendly character so many friends and family have come to know and love. The quote at the top of this memorial is taken from an email written by Soo to Jason and Janna on the morning of his retirement.

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