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In the past decade, Rockwell’s has passed through a private-party stage and a popular gay-weekend stage to become basically a college bar in training trying to lure students from the nearby campus of Long Island University. Thus movie and karaoke nights, and questionable drinks like rum punch. The dance floor is the primary draw of the massive space that’s spotted with bright lights; factory-high ceilings, generous floor space, and a mirror large enough for every dancer to monitor the crowd allow for an open feel despite a certain velvet-rope vibe at the front door. Decoration is dorm-room simple: nothing much more than drapes, amateurish paintings, and a sofa to lend character to the darkened, cinderblock-walled interior. Rockwell’s has indeed drawn in some diverse, fashionably attired young folk, but for every pierced-nose-and-porkpie-hatted whippersnapper, there’s a middle-aged clock puncher from the nearby Verizon center or Brooklyn Hospital Center, taking it easy over a plate of comfort food. — Patrick Coffee and John Metcalfe