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By Kai Ma   Photographs by Eric Sueyoshi

Hair by Jenny Chung, RA Beauty Core   Makeup by Kelly Yeom, RA Beauty Core

Smith Cho loves animals, and she’s not the first starlet known for advocating for their rights. Think Brigitte Bardot, Pamela Anderson, and the scores of other celebrities who rally behind PETA, while proclaiming their vegan diets and refusing to slip into fur.

Yet Cho, who stars in NBC’s revival of Knight Rider, thinks the description is a bit misleading.

“I do believe that animals need to be protected, and it breaks my heart to see an animal in a cage,” says the Hollywood-based actress. “But I’m not exactly an animal rights activist.”

She pauses, her eyes narrowing on her pretty, angular face. “Plus, I eat meat.”

But back in 2004, Cho did rescue two dogs: Humphrey and Lauren (yes, named after the famed Bogart/Bacall duo). “I didn’t name them,” Cho clarifies. “The rescue center did. They would call my American bulldog ‘Humpin’ Humphrey’ because he used to hump a lot.” Before the adoption, the dogs were seized from an abusive owner and placed at the Villalobos Rescue Center. Lauren, a pit bull-Jack Russell mix, had to undergo an emergency operation to remove 39 pellets from her body because her owner had tied her to a tree before shooting her with a BB gun. “Lauren was in such bad shape that she slept with one eye open. She was a mess if Humphrey wasn’t around.”

It takes a plucky type of determination to rescue, then raise two canines with trust issues, especially when the combination of the dogs’ weight exceeds 150 pounds. But for Cho, who talks animatedly, zips through Los Angeles freeways in a black BMW, and rocks out to the Killers and the Shins, it all boils down to a “battle of the wills.”

“As a kid, I played piano, and my teacher was Korean and abused me,” Cho says in a hushed whisper. “He would hit me with a stick, and it was horrible and traumatizing,” she adds with a giggle. “That’s why I adopt dogs: I feel their pain.”

Which also explains how in just a few years, Cho’s prolific resume has grown to include the most popular television shows out there, as well as small and large castings in films, and a recurring Knight Rider role as Zoe Chae, a Korean American linguistics expert. In the cutthroat world of Hollywood, willpower and a tolerance for pain are practically required traits, and actors can’t be strangers to both.

“Acting is really awesome,” says Cho. “But it’s so driven by self-esteem. It’s about seeking revenge, approval and acceptance. Auditions can be depressing. You feel amazing one day, but the next day, you can literally feel like a balloon that somebody put a pin in. The truth is, we’re all a little sadistic.”

***

Knight Rider was cemented into the American pop psyche shortly after the original series introduced the high-tech crime-fighting Michael Knight, played by David Hasselhoff, in 1982. Yet arguably, the star of the show was not Knight, but his artificially intelligent computer-controlled car, Knight Industries Two Thousand (K.I.T.T.). (In other words, the talking Trans Am).

After a two-hour movie served as a “backdoor pilot” in February, the Hasselhoff-less revival, created and executive produced by Gary Scott Thompson, began airing in September as a weekly series on NBC. Despite some crummy reviews and modest ratings (a recent episode garnered only 6.9 million viewers), NBC picked up its adventure-drama remake for a full season in late October.

Val Kilmer is the voice of K.I.T.T., now code for Knight Industries Three Thousand, a souped-up Ford Shelby GT 500 KR Mustang.

“We never see Val Kilmer,” Cho says. “I think he literally just records all of his stuff out of his house or farm or acreage or forest thing out in Montana or Wisconsin or wherever he lives.” As for Justin Bruening, who portrays Mike Traceur, the estranged son of Michael Knight, “he’s playful and amicable. He really is like a 12-year-old kid. Maybe even younger.”

Cho was the last to join the ensemble cast. Zoe Chae, who is described on the show’s official website as a “ditzy, but surprisingly intelligent office administrator,” tends to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. The series premiere, for example, opens with an explosive, high-action scene: Mike Traceur and Sarah Graiman (Deanna Russo) are with K.I.T.T. when they are hit with a missile. The car motors on, engulfed in flames. “When the temperature reaches 212 degrees, you’ll be boiled alive in your own bodily fluids,” K.I.T.T. informs them, ominously.

“It was this major scenario,” says Cho, “because they were all going to melt to death and die.”

At the Knight Rider Industries headquarters, Zoe is one of many staff members working to rescue the trio. Dressed like a sex kitten assistant, she frantically types on a keyboard and makes phone calls. Ruckus ensues. As K.I.T.T. heats up, so do the actors, who disrobe to provide convenient shots of a topless Bruening and Russo in purple, lace lingerie. Yet K.I.T.T. averts disaster by roaring into the Knight office, where Mike and Sarah are resuscitated.

Zoe’s response to the near-tragedy?

“That was awesome,” she says, grinning.

“Which is so inappropriate,” says Cho. But, “Zoe is mysterious and consistently evolving. You don’t know her completely so she comes off one way, but her abilities are not what you expected from her.”

Those abilities include being multi-lingual. On the show, Zoe has spoken in Hebrew, Russian, Spanish, and Korean (Cho was already fluent in the latter two). On her script, these lines are spelled out phonetically, and include an English translation, but so far, it’s up to Cho to do her own research to make sure she’s nailing the accent and cadence. “It’s tough,” she admits. “At some point, they’re probably going to have to get me a dialect coach.”

In some ways, Cho relates to her character. “I find myself totally laughing at inappropriate times,” she says. And in other ways, she doesn’t. “Zoe is sexual. She’ll either be playful-flirty, or really sexy-flirty. She likes to toy with Billy Morgan [Paul Campbell] and tease him sexually. But in real life, I don’t do that. I’m not overtly flirtatious. I don’t go around thinking, yeah … I’m sexy.”

***

Growing up in the Silicon Valley sprawl of Northern California, Cho never caught an episode of the original Knight Rider series. In fact, as the only child of a strict, single mom, Cho was barely exposed to television or film, period. “I thought Hollywood was reserved for a different breed of person,” she says, “and that you had to have special blood or be born into it. I thought about TV and movies from a sheltered point of view: completely out of reach.”

That all changed during college at California State University, Long Beach. There, she met a friend that worked as a film extra. “I realized that anyone could be an extra,” Cho says. “And then I realized that all you had to do was take acting lessons, and that anyone could be an actor.”

Upon this discovery, Cho decided to pursue acting full-time and drop out of college. Not that she was getting much out of it to begin with. “I was having such a blast that I wasn’t focused on studying,” recalls Cho. “It was out of control. I was such a screw-up that I wasn’t even getting my financial aid papers in on time.”

During one of her acting classes, a commercial agent showed up and signed Cho on as a client. After appearing in nearly 50 commercials for companies including MasterCard, GEICO, Sears, and Toyota, she was cast in small roles for notable series such as Boston Public, ER, Gilmore Girls, House, and Six Feet Under. As Glitter Cho, she made her network series regular debut in Emily’s Reasons Why Not, starring Heather Graham. Glitter remains one of Cho’s favorite characters.

“I was allowed to be very creative,” she says. “Glitter was evil but fun-evil. She wasn’t, you know, dark-evil.”

Other recurring roles include stints with Entourage, She Said/He Said, and most recently, ABC’s Dirty Sexy Money, as the younger sister of Nola Lyons, played by Lucy Liu. And as expected, Cho is often compared to her famous, onscreen sibling. “Non-Asians will comment that I resemble Lucy Liu,” says Cho. “And I’m like, really? It gets annoying, but when I smile, I can also see how they can think that.”

This summer, Cho wrapped Will Gluck’s cheerleading comedy, Fired Up, which is slated for an early 2009 release, and she also appeared in The Last Lullaby and Meet Dave. But most notably, Cho played the female lead in the 2007 feature flick Ping Pong Playa, written and directed by Academy Award winner Jessica Yu. Cho’s character, Jennifer, described as “rough around the edges,” is the love interest of Christopher ‘C-Dub’ Wang (Jimmy Tsai). “[He] kinda likes me,” says Cho. “And in the end, we’re dating. But that’s after his character matures.”

As for Jennifer’s characterization, “being ‘rough around the edges’ makes her sound like a hooker,” Cho deadpans. “But she’s definitely fun. I do tend to be cast as a ball-buster, and it’s probably because I’ve ball-busted several people in the past,” adding coyly, “but not in a mean way.”

***

These days, when Cho isn’t at a grueling 12- to 17-hour Knight Rider shoot, she’s unpacking boxes at her Hollywood townhouse, where she lives with her “special friend” of six years.

“It’s a mess,” she says, of her new abode. Which posed a problem when Cho visited the KoreAm office for a photo shoot last month because she was asked to bring in various outfits. “My closet is a disaster,” she explains, as she spreads out T-shirts, jeans and a pair of black Vans speckled with pink hippos. “And I haven’t shopped in years. It’s a crisis in my life. I won’t go out because I have nothing to wear.”

After the shoot, Cho settles into a chair, wearing dark skinny jeans and a red fitted tee emblazoned with the words, “I don’t like you.” Her voice, which borders on a breathy purr, is sweet and girlish, and prone to trailing off. Her svelte, 5’4” figure evokes the litheness of a dancer, and for good reason: Since age 9, Cho has trained in ballet and different styles of jazz. During high school at Homestead in Cupertino, Calif., she moved into performance and competitive dance.

“I was really into hobbies,” Cho says. “And it was probably because I was so lonely. My mom was never home so it was just me. I filled my life with playing viola in the school orchestra, flute and piccolo. And then I begged my mom to put me in dance.”

Cho is a fan of Knight Rider’s action genre, but she also aspires to incorporate her dance training into her work. “I’d like to do dance movies like Step Up, Dirty Dancing, Swing Kids. Or the family adventure genre, such as Harry Potter or even Lord of the Rings. I’m all about that magical world.”

Which is why Cho admires the intelligent, fantastical work of Johnny Depp. “He’s got a great career, and an imaginative one,” says Cho. “I’d love to work with Tim Burton, and I adore Chevy Chase and Bill Murray a ton. But really, I want to be in a film like Beethoven.”

The biopic of the German composer?

“No,” she says, laughing. “The comedy about Beethoven, the dog!”

The animal movie, of course.

By Jinah Kim   Illustration by Kyungduk Kim

I was warned that it could happen, that I could be kicked out of my own father’s funeral. But I didn’t believe it would happen.

Until it did.

Five years ago, I was at the memorial service for my father, who had died of Lou Gehrig’s disease on Halloween day. I sat next to my family in the front row of the Jehovah’s Witness Kingdom Hall in Marina, Calif., staring numbly at my father’s framed picture. “Dong Soo Kim was a wonderful father, husband, Christian…,” the elder remarked. He concluded the service with prayer. I was nervous about what was supposed to come next, but was too sad to think about it seriously.

Suddenly, my aunt came up to me and grabbed my elbow to lift me out of my seat. “OK, let’s go,” she said softly. Before I could protest, she was leading me up the aisle, her hand firmly gripping my arm to make sure I couldn’t flee. As hundreds of solemn eyes looked on, I was marched out of the church like an inmate being led away to jail.

Once outside, I flung my arm out of my aunt’s grip and screamed at the top of my lungs.

***

I was raised Jehovah’s Witness. As a child, my mother would come to my room at the end of each day to kiss me goodnight. To lull me to sleep, she would stroke my hair and tell me how much she, my dad and God loved me. Then, just as I was drifting into slumber, she would abruptly add, “Jinah, remember, the devil walks about like a roaring lion, ready to devour people. If you don’t stay faithful to God, you become easy prey. Good night.”

As the rest of the house slept, I would lay there buried and sweating under my covers, picturing Satan lurking around my room, eyeing me hungrily. At my tender young age, I concluded that the only reason I was still alive in the morning was because I was a faithful Jehovah’s Witness.

And that I was. I embraced my faith with a fervor and zeal that was rivaled by few other Jehovah’s Witnesses my age. I gave public talks and participated actively in our tri-weekly meetings. I would go knocking door to door in my neighborhood, trying to convince everyone and anyone who would listen that Armageddon was coming soon, and that unless they too became Jehovah’s Witnesses, they were doomed to eternal death. I was the darling of my congregation, and I prepared myself for a future as a missionary. My parents were bursting with pride.

Then, during my junior year of high school, my parents lost their grocery store, which was our livelihood since immigrating to the U.S. Suddenly, we found ourselves near poverty, and I saw my parents struggling to find odd jobs to keep us fed and clothed. Frightened, I decided I never wanted to be in that same situation when I got older. I put my plans of becoming a missionary on hold, bought myself an SAT prep book and applied to college. I was accepted into UCLA.

Back then, Jehovah’s Witnesses opposed higher education, believing that it was a four-year investment in a world that was about to come to an end. My parents and the entire congregation tried to convince me not to go. But I remained firmly resolved, and for the first time in my life, left the comforts of home.

In college, I tried to stay active as a Jehovah’s Witness. But something was clearly changing my mind: It was losing its narrow, closed-mindedness as I absorbed fascinating information about the world around me. I was experiencing life as I never had before. By the time I graduated, I had all but left the religion, no longer able to tolerate its intolerant ways.

Two years after graduation, I was “disfellowshipped,” which essentially means I was excommunicated by the religion. Elders at my congregation discovered I had a male roommate. I didn’t know this was a reason for disfellowshipping; I found a place I liked and needed a roommate badly, and the only one who responded to the ad was a guy. But despite my protests and appeals, the elders publicly announced my fate at the next meeting, and the deed was done.

When you are disfellowshipped, no Jehovah’s Witness is allowed to speak to you. Even your own family members are encouraged to cut off communication. And so on the day of my father’s funeral, I could not stay in Kingdom Hall to mingle, accept condolences or represent my family. My mother was so afraid I would interact with Jehovah’s Witnesses that she had my aunt escort me out as soon as the prayer was over. That same year, I was kicked out of my grandmother’s funeral in much the same way.

Eventually, for the sake of making peace between my mother and myself, and because I could not bear the thought of not being able to attend my mother’s funeral when she dies, I decided to get the ban lifted. After six months of Jehovah’s Witness meetings and swearing that I’ve repented of all of my sins, I was “reinstated” into the congregation. With the big “D” figuratively un-stitched from my chest and having exchanged my shameful title for a clean one, I won my mother’s relief, and the ability to communicate with Witnesses again.

Still, in my heart, I had left the church long ago.

I don’t regret having grown up Jehovah’s Witness. I think I am stronger today because of it. And because my mother cannot live without the hope the religion provides, nor without the tight-knit community of like-minded people who encourage her emotionally and spiritually, I support her wholeheartedly in her way of life.

But for me, that chapter of my life is done. And for now, I think I’ll keep it that way.

Jinah Kim is a reporter for NBC News and KNBC in Los Angeles.

Recycle

Umma would never let you throw away wrapping paper at Christmas. She’d fold it up and use it for birthday gifts. Of course, there are less obvious (read: tacky) ways to recycle: using old TV dinner trays to reheat food in the microwave, reusing fabric softener sheets to keep drawers and suitcases smelling fresh, and making quilts out of old clothes. Protect your wallet and the earth!

Take What’s “Free”

Sure, you used to cower in the booth every time umma would hoard sugar packets and napkins from McDonald’s. (The chili flakes at pizza joints were an extra special treat.) But don’t be afraid to snag a few extras here and there. Why spend money on an expensive car wash when you can squeegee your entire vehicle at the gas station for free?

Find A Roommate

Hey, umma didn’t seem to mind living under the same roof with both sets of grandparents. Free babysitting.

DIY

In her stand-up routine, Margaret Cho jokes about the time her mom refused to buy her glue for a school project. “Just-a use riiice,” Mama Cho advised. Not a bad idea. Follow her lead and be resourceful in concocting homemade household products. Mix together vinegar and baking soda and you’ve got yourself an effective cleaning agent. Blend oatmeal, cornmeal and wheat germ for an exfoliating body scrub.

Cut Your Own Hair

So you still have nightmares about that jjigae bowl inching toward your head. Get over your fears by giving yourself a trim that won’t get you beat up on the playground, er, at the office. Some tips: Wet hair is easier to cut than dry hair, snip only a little at a time and use sharp scissors. And if you’re a guy who doesn’t need a high-maintenance Ryan Seacrest ‘do, the Flowbee isn’t such a bad idea.

Got A Green Thumb?

Save major cash by growing your own fruits and vegetables. Umma loves boasting to all her friends and relatives that the ingredients in her latest culinary creation came straight from her backyard.

Buy In Bulk

Umma did it with kimchi, why not get a Costco card and do it with everything else?

– Michelle Woo

I had to set up a new phone number once I moved out of my old apartment, and since then I’ve been deluged with upwards of 20 calls a day from the bane of man’s existence: telemarketers. I was on the Buzz-off List at my old place and had stopped getting bothered by these faceless cold-callers years ago, and apparently I’d taken for granted how nice it is to just be left alone as I work at home as a writer.

There’s a sweet science to dealing with these people. I mean, you can’t just say no, because they end up calling back a day later. And simply ignoring the call only guarantees they’ll keep trying you ad infinitum. Besides, it’s hard to decipher the numbers that show up on my caller ID. Who do I know in Florida? Texas? What if it’s a long lost friend, or someone calling to invite me to do a book reading or something?

The thing is, you can’t berate these people, either. That’s a surefire way to guarantee they’ll call back simply out of spite. Telemarketers, by nature, are incredibly vengeful people.

So you have to get creative.

I’m street smart enough to know not to give out personal information over the phone, lest I want to wake up one morning in a tub with homemade stitches in my side and one of my precious kidneys missing. So I lie when they press me for details, but I always end up fumbling.

“Is this David Yoo?” a telemarketer will ask.

I’ll sigh into the receiver.

“Sorry, this is a business line,” I say, thinking it’s a sufficient conversation-ender.

“Oh, what kind of business is this?”

This always frazzles me, and I end up quoting George Costanza for lack of being able to think of a single other type of company.

“Um, I-I mean, we, we’re in the, uh, importing exporting business,” I say.

A pause on the other end.

“Are you lying?” the voice asks.

I hang up the phone.

My other trick is to claim to be someone else.

“Is this David Yoo?”

“Oh, sorry pal, that was the former tenant. Dude no longer lives here,” I say.

“And who am I speaking with?”

“Um … Jon,” I stammer. “Yeah, this is John … Stamos?”

“Sir, are you actually David Yoo?”

“Don’t call here again,” I snap, slamming the receiver into its cradle.

I even pull a move sometimes that most 8-year-olds would find childish, and pretend that the phone connection is bad.

“I’m sorry,” I practically shout. “If you can hear me just know that I can’t hear you. Phone line … bad. So … frustrating, wish I could hear you!”

“I just need a minute of your time, sir,” the telemarketer says.

“Can’t spare a minute, like I said, um, I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” I reply.

Silence on the other end.

“Sorry,” I say softly, then hang up the phone.

OK, so none of these tactics have ever really worked for me, but the other day I finally did come up with an effective solution. The phone rang, and I answered sounding extremely pleasant, as to suggest that I was totally open to hearing their spiel. Midway through the marketing script, I suddenly kicked the door loud enough for them to hear over the receiver and shouted, “Jesus, who are you? Get out of here! I’m on the phone with the police and, oh Jesus, don’t, stop, no, what are you doing? Please!” and hung up the phone.

The telemarketer didn’t call back.

The thing is, I ended up staring at the phone for 10 minutes, feeling at first sad and then deeply hurt that the person didn’t try me again. I mean, the telemarketer heard me struggling with an intruder and made no effort to check up on me.

What kind of heartless monster would do that sort of thing?

—Dave Yoo