The Southern Belle

There’s a lot to unpack about the town of Heavener. There’s the runestone, the ghost lights, the steady heartbeat of the trains — and, I think, the crown jewel of the city: the Southern Belle Restaurant.

Not the train itself — though there once was one — but the restaurant that carries its name. A 1905 dining car sits quietly beside the highway, polished and restored, now serving fried chicken, steaks, and homemade pies. Inside, the narrow booths and small tables exude an elegance long forgotten — that bygone sense of rail-era grace, when the journey mattered as much as the destination.

We stepped through the door and were greeted by the hostess, whose name I didn’t catch but whose kindness I’ll remember. She smiled easily, offered menus, and handed us a photo album showing the rebirth of the car — the way it had been pulled from neglect and restored to its former dignity. The story unfolded in sepia: a rusted passenger coach left in the yard, a retired railroad man who couldn’t bear to see it fade, and the long, patient labor of bringing it back to life.

The railcar was originally built in 1905, part of the Southern Belle Rail Service later operated by the Kansas City Southern Railway. During World War II, it carried troops along the Kansas City Southern main line — the stretch between Kansas City, Missouri, and New Orleans, Louisiana, with stops in Shreveport and Alexandria near the big training camps. It once carried soldiers toward the war; now it carries travelers toward supper. There’s poetry in that.

According to the literature we were given, the car sat abandoned for years until the 1980s, when that retired railroad employee — who’d once worked the line — was granted permission to take it home. He was told he could have it for free if he could move it. And somehow, he did. Piece by piece, he restored it to the warm, wood-paneled glow it still holds today.

I ordered my usual. Over the years, I’ve made a ritual of ordering a cheeseburger wherever I go — a standard for comparison. The logic is simple: it’s a classic American meal, the same baseline in every town, yet never quite the same. A Japanese cheeseburger, for instance, is nothing like an American one — unless you’re eating at Eastwoods in Kawasaki. Please sponsor me Eastwood's. Mary, as always, went searching for something regional.

Through the narrow window, we watched as the rain began to fade. Clouds rolled over the foothills. Somewhere beyond the trees, a freight train moaned its way through the valley, long and low, the sound rippling down the line like a memory. The trains still move through Heavener at night, their horns echoing across the hills as they pass along the Speedway.

The food arrived hot and simple, the kind that doesn’t need to prove anything. The service was kind, the prices fair. The couple in the next booth told the waitress they travel through this way every few years and always stop at the Southern Belle. Quite a compliment, I thought. In a place like this, praise comes softly, but it lasts.

What matters most here is the care — the attention given to preserve something that might have vanished. The Southern Belle is more than a restaurant; it’s a living piece of the rail line that built this town. Its name fits perfectly. There’s grace in the Southern Belle, the same quiet grace that lingers in old rail towns that refuse to fade.

Heavener began as a railroad town, carved into the hills by the Kansas City Southern. That history hums beneath everything here — in the rails, in the air, and in the stories still told over lunch. Sitting in that dining car, you can almost feel the rhythm of the old line, the heartbeat of a place that remembers what carried it this far.

Definitely a ten out of ten — not just for the food, but for the feeling. It’s a must-stop if you’re a train buff, a traveler tracing small-town byways, or anyone who simply likes to eat a really good burger served by good people in a beautiful setting. You know, if that’s your thing.

If You Go

Where: Heavener, Oklahoma — about twelve miles south of Poteau on Highway 59.
What to See: The Southern Belle Restaurant at 821 Highway 59 N, the Heavener Runestone Park, and the Kansas City Southern rail yard.
When: Late fall or early spring, when fog pools low in the valleys and the hills are deep green.
Eat: The Southern Belle Chicken — battered, marinated, and fried — followed by homemade pie. Or a cheeseburger, if you share my habit. Call ahead; the railcar fills quickly.
Stay: Small motels in Poteau or cabins near the park. Bring a camera — and a little curiosity for what still flickers beyond the rails.